


Lights Will Guide You Home

by angejolras



Series: the intertwined verse [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: All the goddamn fluff, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kid Fic, Multi, Wedding Planning, Weddings, lol not really, sorry about that, to make up for all the angst and melodrama of the first fic in this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 54,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angejolras/pseuds/angejolras
Summary: As it turns out, planning a wedding while also having a very small toddler to take care of isnota piece of cake after all.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> as promised, here is the first sequel! hope ya like it!

Éponine and Enjolras trudged up the driveway of his parents’ enormous house in his hometown upstate with Victoire conked out in Enjolras’ arms, her pudgy little arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her little head resting against his shoulder, mouth slightly agape, drool staining his shirt. It was early morning, the sun having just begun to rise while they had been driving to Enjolras’ parents’ house, and Éponine was a little more than a bit irritated, wondering why the hell he had woken her up so early and told her they were going to his parents’ place that morning. They didn’t even have time to grab breakfast before leaving, Victoire having slept the whole way, and now they were making their way to his parents’ front door.

“Why do we have to be here so early?” she hissed under her breath, careful not to wake Victoire up.

“My parents invited us over for breakfast,” Enjolras replied simply, his voice quiet as he altered Victoire’s position slightly so she would be more secure in his arms as Éponine reached out to ring the doorbell.

Éponine raised an eyebrow, still suspicious. “Right. This has nothing to do with the engagement?”

She watched as Enjolras’ cheeks flamed red and he bowed his head, admitting sheepishly, “I may have told them of how I was planning on proposing a few days ago. I told them I would call if you said yes.”

The cranky look on Éponine’s face softened almost immediately at his words and she lightly shoved him, an amused little grin playing at her lips. “What the hell do you mean, ‘if’? You _knew_ I was going to say yes, ’Jolras. I love you.”

It was still all so surreal to her—they were actually _engaged_ now, he had gone from being her boyfriend to her _fiancé_ and they were actually going to get _married_. It was hard to believe how just a little over a year and nine months ago, they had had a drunken night of passion that had resulted in the sleeping toddler currently in Enjolras’ arms, and somewhere along the way they had fallen madly in love, making things official a few months after Victoire’s conception, and now they were engaged to be married. Soon—hopefully soon—she would be able to call him her husband, and she could hardly believe how far they had come in just a little under two years.

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile back at his fiancée, cheeks reddened under the dim porch lights. “I love you too, ’Ponine.” He fell silent when Victoire stirred slightly in his arms, but she didn’t wake, still sound asleep on her father’s shoulder, and he continued quietly, “I called them last night after we got home while you were putting Victoire to bed. They invited us over for breakfast.”

The door swung open just then and the couple fell silent as they were greeted by the sight of Angela and Antoine Enjolras, Angela beaming widely as she spread her arms wide to invite the three of them in. “You three didn’t have to come here so early!” she exclaimed once they were inside, Antoine shutting the door behind them as Éponine and Enjolras kicked off their shoes, Éponine carefully prying off Victoire’s tiny Converse sneakers and shooting Enjolras a bitter glare.

“I could still be sleeping right now,” she told him in an accusing tone filled with faux anger just as Victoire’s big brown eyes blinked open, effectively shutting Éponine up.

The little girl looked around blearily at her surroundings, trying to make sense of where she was through clouded brown eyes, and her gaze soon fell to her mother and she began to reach out for Éponine, mumbling drowsily, “Mommy… Mommy…”

“Shhhhh…” Enjolras handed Victoire to Éponine and the young woman took their daughter into her arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and whispering tenderly, “Mommy’s here.” She gently bounced the toddler up and down in her arms as Antoine made his way into the kitchen, presumably to go make breakfast for them, while Angela and Enjolras stayed with Éponine and Victoire in the foyer. Éponine pressed a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead, Victoire clinging to her like a lifeline while Enjolras watched them both with a fond smile on his face. Even after a year, the sight of Éponine interacting with Victoire never failed to warm his heart. His fiancée and their daughter—the two people he loved the most.

Once Victoire had quieted down a bit, Angela let out a cry of delight and went to embrace Enjolras, hugging her son and nearly knocking the wind out of him as she exclaimed joyously, “Oh, congratulations on the engagement, you two!” She drew back to gaze into her son’s eyes with a smile of utter happiness on her face, tears pooling in her blue eyes as her hands grasped his shoulders while she looked back and forth between him and Éponine. “I never thought I’d see my only son get married…”

“Mother!” Enjolras’ face turned a fiery shade of scarlet at Angela’s words and Éponine laughed out loud, Victoire in a bit of a daze as she looked back and forth between her parents.

“Well, can you blame me?” Angela was unfazed, going on, “You swore up and down when you were sixteen that you’d live as an eternal bachelor and now you have a kid and you’re engaged. Forgive me for being excited.”

“Still.” Enjolras was mortified, his face flushed red as Éponine laughed at his expense while bouncing Victoire up and down in her arms, the little girl growing more awake by the moment. Soon, she was rubbing at her eyes with little fists before she reached out towards Angela, calling, “Nana! Nana!”

Angela laughed and took Victoire from Éponine, holding her granddaughter in her arms as the toddler babbled to her and brought her pudgy hands up to grasp her face while Éponine went to stand by Enjolras’ side, draping her arm loosely around his waist and pulling him closer to her as she looped a finger through one of his belt-loops. It was still hard to believe that Angela wasn’t just her boyfriend’s mom anymore, she was her soon-to-be mother-in-law, and she couldn’t help but smile at how Angela had been and continued to be more of a mother figure to her than her own mom ever was.

“Do you two want to come into the living room?” Angela offered, turning to look at the pair as Victoire grabbed at her grandmother’s grey-streaked blonde hair and tugged at it slightly. “Antoine’s making breakfast right now, it’ll be a while until it’s ready.” She winced just a bit when Victoire gave a lock of her hair a particularly harsh tug, giggling as she did so, and Éponine nodded.

“Sure, why not?” She knew that they would have to discuss the wedding plans at one point and figured she might as well just get it over with. She didn’t care about how the wedding was going to turn out—all she cared about was the fact that she was getting married to Enjolras, her best friend and the love of her life, and that in itself was more than enough.

As the three of them made their way into the living room, Victoire still in Angela’s arms, Éponine looked around at her surroundings—she was still rather intimidated by the sheer size of the house, having lived in tiny-ass apartments nearly all her life until she moved in with Enjolras. The ceilings were high, the pale green curtains pulled back to allow the early morning sunlight to stream in, and an enormous TV was mounted on the wall above the electric fireplace, sofas and armchairs tastefully arranged around the room with a glass coffee table smack-dab in the middle. Photographs of Enjolras and his parents were arranged across the mantel as well as snow globes and music boxes here and there; across the spacious room from the fireplace was an enormous fish tank built into the wall, the fish swimming about in circles, and Éponine could see Enjolras’ parents’ Saint Bernard Anneliese curled up in a ball, sleeping soundly in a corner.

Victoire shrieked at the sight of the fish tank and immediately started to try and pull herself out of Angela’s arms before she put the toddler down, Éponine watching as Enjolras quickly trailed after their daughter when she toddled towards the fish tank, jumping up and down and screaming with delight. There was no doubt that she was fully awake now, trying to jump up to see the fishies before Enjolras hoisted her up to allow her a view, pressing a kiss to her temple as she giggled. Éponine didn’t notice Angela making her way over to her until the older woman was standing right beside her, nearly making her jump out of her skin.

“Sorry!” Angela apologised quickly upon seeing the look on Éponine’s face, like she was a deer caught in headlights. “I just—I wanted to see—” Angela composed herself, taking a deep breath before she moved to face her future daughter-in-law, requesting lightly, “Can I see the ring?”

“Oh!” Éponine felt the tension leave her body upon finding out that that was all Angela wanted, nothing worrisome, and she brought her left hand up, letting Angela take it as the older woman sighed, admiring Éponine’s engagement ring. With the exception of when she went to shower, Éponine hadn’t taken off the ring since Enjolras proposed the night before.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Angela murmured, running her fingers delicately over the diamonds of the ring before she looked up to steal a glance at her son, who was having a generally one-sided conversation with his daughter as they looked at the fish swimming about through the glass, talking animatedly to her while she laughed and clapped her hands, responding with absolutely incomprehensible gibberish. Éponine followed Angela’s gaze and smiled at the sight of them, feeling like her heart could burst at seeing Enjolras, her _fiancé_ —God, the word still sounded so fucking foreign to her—and Victoire, their beloved daughter, together, Enjolras bouncing her up and down in his arms and pointing at specific fish in the tank as she laughed and squealed, the goofy little grin, identical to Enjolras’, on her face displaying four little teeth.

When Éponine and Angela were facing one another once again, Éponine thought she saw tears pooling in Angela’s blue eyes as she gazed at her with a smile on her face. “Éponine, Antoine and I are so happy to officially welcome you into the family. Not that you aren’t in it already!” Angela laughed, quick to correct herself. “It’s just that…” She sighed, stealing another glance at Enjolras before turning back to Éponine. “I never thought I’d see my son get married and have children.”

“You probably expected it to be in that order instead of the other way around,” Éponine joked lightly, thinking about how she herself often entertained the idea of how people usually fell in love and got married _before_ having children.

Angela laughed. “It doesn’t matter. At least it’s _happening_.”

Éponine and Angela went to sit in the middle of the room on the plush sofa while Victoire finally grew tired of looking at the fish and had had Enjolras put her back down on the wood floor before she noticed Anneliese the Saint Bernard in the corner and screamed, beginning to toddle over to the enormous dog as fast as she could with Enjolras at her heels. Anneliese was roused by the sound of Victoire’s delighted shrieks, letting out a bark and getting up to trot over to Victoire with Enjolras close behind the toddler.

“So how do you feel?” Angela prompted, having noticed earlier how Éponine looked as if she couldn’t stop smiling, the dimples in her cheeks ever present as a result of the wide grin on her face.

“Giddy,” Éponine replied truthfully. “Excited. How long does it usually take to plan a wedding?”

“About a year,” Angela told her, and Éponine’s face fell. How the hell was she supposed to wait _one fucking year_? Did people seriously expect her to wait that long?

Before Éponine could object, Antoine came out of the dining room to let them know breakfast was ready, and the next thing she knew, she was sitting at the table in the absurdly roomy dining room beside Enjolras, Angela and Antoine sitting across from them and Victoire sitting in a high chair at the head of the table, Enjolras taking breaks in between bites to feed applesauce to the toddler. They ate mostly in silence, Éponine devouring her bacon as fast as she could, under the impression that they would be discussing the wedding plans later. The sooner they discussed plans, the better, because didn’t that mean she would be getting married to Enjolras sooner?

Once they had all finished the breakfast Antoine had prepared for them, they all went back into the living room, Victoire going to sit on the rug with Anneliese, laughing and babbling animatedly to the dog as she sat down with Victoire, wagging her tail. Éponine and Enjolras found seats on the sofa together, Angela and Antoine going to sit in two armchairs placed next to each other, and the four of them exchanged meaningless small talk for some time as Victoire giggled and played with Anneliese on the rug until Angela finally, _finally_ cut to the chase.

“I’m assuming you two will be wanting to talk about wedding plans?” When Éponine and Enjolras nodded in confirmation, Angela couldn’t help but smile and asked them, “When are you planning on getting married?”

The couple exchanged looks before Éponine replied, “We were talking about it last night before we went to bed. What about an autumn wedding?”

“We were thinking about having an outdoor wedding and an indoor reception,” Enjolras chimed in, his hand tightly intertwined with Éponine’s. Éponine’s other hand was fiddling absently with her locket.

“ _This_ autumn?” Antoine looked alarmed at the thought of having to plan a wedding in such a short amount of time, looking as if he was about to voice his concerns before his son interjected.

“No, of course not,” Enjolras assured his father, rather startled himself by Antoine’s insinuations.

“Angela, since you said it takes about a year to plan, I was thinking maybe we could have it next autumn,” Éponine told them. “Late September or early October.” Stealing a glance at her daughter, who was stuck in her own little world as she played happily with Anneliese, Éponine smiled and admitted, “We’re thinking we could have Vicky be our flower girl.” If the wedding was really going to be taking place next autumn, then Victoire would be two—Éponine and Enjolras figured that their daughter would be old enough by then to act as the flower girl at their wedding.

“Aww, that’s a wonderful idea,” Angela cooed, following Éponine’s gaze and glancing at her granddaughter, who was still oblivious to everything going on around her, happily playing with Anneliese. “Did you have a particular date in mind?”

“We’ll wait until we find a wedding venue and a reception venue,” Enjolras responded. “We’ll book the earliest available dates then.”

“Are you two planning on going on a honeymoon?” Angela enquired, leaning forward in her seat with curiosity in her eyes.

Éponine and Enjolras exchanged looks, still not quite having figured out the honeymoon bit of their impending marriage, especially since they had Victoire to take care of. “Well, we would really love to go on one, but we weren’t sure if we could since we have Victoire,” Enjolras replied finally, Éponine biting her lip.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Antoine stole a quick glance at Victoire, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a slight smile at the sight of his granddaughter clumsily brushing Anneliese’s fur, having grabbed the brush off the coffee table. “We can babysit Victoire for you two if you really want to go.”

Éponine’s face lit up at Antoine’s words, a bright smile spreading across her face. “Would you really?”

“It’s no problem at all!” Angela reassured them, beaming at them both. “We want the two of you to be happy, and if going on a honeymoon will make you happy, then we’d be happy to take care of Victoire while you’re away. More time with our granddaughter!”

“We’d be happy to cover all the expenses too,” Antoine added. “The wedding, the reception, the honeymoon, and everything else—we’ll pay for all of it.”

Éponine’s dark eyes widened in shock as Enjolras grew incredulous, starting, “Father, we—we really don’t need—you don’t have to—”

“Oh, nonsense, we want to,” Angela interjected. “We come from old money, we’ve got plenty to spare. We’ll pay for everything. No buts!” she insisted when Éponine and Enjolras opened their mouths to try and protest, her tone final. The two of them shut up, realising that it would be pointless trying to argue with Angela and Antoine.

“Thank you, Angela,” Éponine said weakly after a few moments of silence, taken aback by how quick Enjolras’ parents had been to offer to pay for everything. Though she was the farthest she could get from marrying Enjolras for his money, in that moment, she was grateful for his family’s wealth.

“Where are you going for the honeymoon?” Antoine questioned.

Éponine gave Enjolras a look; though they were both impatient to get married, at the same time, they were both alarmed at how quickly things were moving, his parents hurling questions at the both of them at an alarmingly fast pace. “Haven’t decided yet,” Éponine replied finally after she and Enjolras exchanged several looks, able to read each other like a book. “We’ll discuss it later.”

After exchanging a few more ideas—Éponine and Enjolras established that they wanted to get married in Central Park, the only aspect of the wedding they were absolutely certain of—Angela got up, telling Antoine to go fetch Anneliese’s leash. She bent down to scoop Victoire up in her arms, blowing raspberries on her tummy and making the little girl shriek with laughter as Angela asked brightly, “Do you want to go on a walk with Nana and Papa and Anneliese, Victoire?”

The toddler merely responded with complete, utter gibberish, clapping her hands together enthusiastically and making Angela laugh out loud and declare, “Let’s go!”


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in other news, i got anon hate on tumblr for the first time. i disabled anonymous asks, will probably be turning it back on in a couple of weeks.
> 
> on a brighter note, happy pride month from your not-so-local grey ace bisexual writer!! it's also my birthday month so there's that!
> 
> i'm really inconsistent about chapter length so do forgive me if i give you a long-ass chapter and then only 2k the next update, i need to get better about that........

* * *

“So where do you want to go for the honeymoon?”

Éponine reached over to take Enjolras’ right hand in her left, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand a squeeze. The two of them and Victoire were on the road once again a week after the proposal, Victoire fast asleep in her car seat in the back and clutching one of the arms of her Elmo doll as Éponine and Enjolras kept their eyes on the road ahead. They still had a bit of time ahead of them—the ride from Enjolras’ hometown back to New York City lasted roughly five hours, hence their decision to leave early that morning. It had been an hour since they left and the sun was well up, the season being summer, and they still had about four more hours to go until they reached New York once again. To their relief, Victoire had nodded off around ten minutes into the drive after a bottle of formula, though they had no way of knowing when she would be waking up again.

Enjolras smiled and brought Éponine’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and admiring how the engagement ring looked on her finger for a split second before he returned his gaze to the road ahead, his hand still clasped tight with Éponine’s. “Where do _you_ want to go?”

“’Jolras, come on.” Though the look on Éponine’s face was mildly irritated, Enjolras could hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t want any of that ‘whatever you want, I want’ bullshit.”

“Language, ’Ponine,” Enjolras gently reprimanded. “Victoire’s here.”

“She’s asleep,” Éponine reminded him dismissively. Even so, she stole a glance over her shoulder to look at Victoire, just to make sure she was still sleeping. Sure enough, the toddler was still fast asleep, her golden hair falling into her eyes and drool dribbling down onto her shirt, eyelashes fluttering every now and then in her sleep. Turning back to look at the road, Éponine suggested, “What do you think about Hawaii?”

Enjolras made a face. “It’s beautiful, yes, but do you think it’s the right honeymoon spot for us?”

Éponine considered it for a few moments before she admitted, “No, I don’t think so.”

After a few moments of silence, Enjolras driving ahead with one hand and his other hand in Éponine’s, he prompted, “What about Bora Bora?”

“Where is that?”

“French Polynesia. I’ve been there before with my parents when I was fifteen, it’s beautiful.”

Éponine took her phone out to look it up, eyes widening at the pictures she found on Google. “Wow,” she breathed, awed by the crystal-clear waters and the azure skies.

“Do you like it?” Enjolras asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” Éponine replied, pausing for a moment before saying, “but I don’t think it’s the right place for us either. I’ll pass on Bora Bora.”

The two of them took advantage of their daughter being sound asleep to bounce ideas back and forth, suggesting several different honeymoon locations, including Venice, Santorini, Fiji, Dubai, the Maldives, Kyoto, Iceland, Palawan, Florence, Rome, Morocco, and countless other places. Neither of them could seem to agree on a location, and Éponine was beginning to despair—she wanted every aspect of this marriage to be perfect, including the honeymoon location. Why couldn’t they just fucking decide on a goddamn place?!

After some time, Éponine slumped down in her seat, fidgeting absent-mindedly with her locket, and suggested offhandedly, “Paris?”

It had been done a million times before, she knew, but that certainly wasn’t for no good reason—Paris was the city of love, practically synonymous with romance, having been hailed as the dream romantic destination for decades, and ever since she was a little girl, Éponine had always dreamed of going to Paris one day. She had always wanted to explore the city with someone, and who better to explore the city with than Enjolras?

She bit her lip, turning her head to glance at Enjolras, caught off-guard when his face lit up at her suggestion. “Yes, let’s go to Paris,” he agreed almost immediately, a smile lighting up his face and making it look as if his blue eyes were sparkling.

“Really?” Éponine could barely keep the excitement out of her voice, eyes bright.

“Yes, let’s go there!” Enjolras said brightly, enthusiastic as he gave Éponine’s hand a firm squeeze before bringing it to his lips to kiss her knuckles once again. Éponine felt her cheeks flush pink at the feeling, unable to get enough of him.

“Did we just decide on our honeymoon location?” she asked, feeling like she could cry after half an hour of indecisiveness and debating back and forth between themselves about where to go.

“I think we just did,” he confirmed, turning his head to give her a goofy grin before he focused once again on the road.

Éponine laughed out loud, feeling a rush of happiness surging through her upon finalising yet another aspect of the marriage, wishing she could just marry him right then and there. She wouldn’t care when, where, or how they got married—she just wanted them to spend the rest of their lives together as a married couple, and she wanted the rest of their lives to start as soon as possible.

The rest of the car trip passed by with no event, if one didn’t count Éponine and Enjolras having to change the music from _Rent_ to _The Lion King_ once Victoire woke up and made a big fuss about wanting to feed, screaming her head off until Éponine handed her a bottle of formula, which finally quieted her down. Once they had entered New York City, however, Éponine was all too confused when Enjolras drove right past their street, bewildered when they didn’t go back to their apartment.

“’Jolras, we just passed our place,” Éponine tentatively pointed out to him, stealing a glance over her shoulder. Victoire was still gulping down her formula, content for now. “Why’d you do that?”

Enjolras didn’t respond, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, and Éponine narrowed her eyes in suspicion upon noticing that it seemed as if Enjolras was driving towards Brooklyn. “Enjolras,” she growled under her breath once they were on the Brooklyn Bridge, itching for an answer. “Where the _hell_ are we going?”

“You’ll see.” His cryptic answer only further fanned the flames of her annoyance, but she held her tongue, figuring that this better be good, otherwise she’d kick his ass. Once they were in Brooklyn, Enjolras kept driving on, down a familiar path, and Éponine’s suspicions were only confirmed when they pulled up in front of Jehan’s apartment building, Enjolras parking the car by the pavement and getting out.

Éponine got out after him, going to get Victoire out of her car seat as Enjolras went and got the fancy diaper bag Bahorel had given to them as a gift out of the trunk of the car. Victoire was awake now, squinting under the bright sunlight as Éponine picked her up, securing the little girl in her arms, and the two of them looked at Enjolras, Victoire with curiosity and Éponine with irritation.

“Why are we at Jehan’s place?” Éponine asked slowly once Enjolras had locked the car and they had made their way into the building, entering the elevator together. Victoire rubbed at her eye with a little fist when the elevator began to move up, up to Jehan’s loft, and if Éponine was correct in her suspicions, then Les Amis would be waiting inside to surprise them all with a surprise informal engagement party.

Sure enough, once they reached Jehan’s door, Enjolras had barely knocked on the front door when it swung open and they were met by deafening shouts of “CONGRATULATIONS!” from all of the Amis, and Éponine scrunched up her face and mustered a smile as she and Enjolras stepped inside, Victoire in her arms. It seemed that shouting hadn’t been the wisest idea—Azelma and Courfeyrac’s son Louis, now three months old, started wailing, frightened by all the noise, and Éponine winced at the memories of having had to deal with Victoire’s frequent screaming once they had gotten through that blessed period of time in which she was tranquil. Even still, she couldn’t help but snort in amusement upon seeing Azelma rush to grab Louis from his stroller as Courfeyrac quickly followed; as much as the sisters loved each other, they couldn’t help but laugh at each other’s misfortunes.

Éponine gave them all a giant smile, calling out, “Thank you so much, guys!”

Victoire’s big brown eyes searched the room and soon landed on Grantaire, who was standing with his Yorkie Toby at his feet, and she immediately started trying to pull herself out of her mother’s arms, reaching towards Grantaire. Éponine got the hint pretty quickly and put her daughter down on the wood floor, watching as Victoire toddled towards Grantaire as fast as her stubby little legs could take her, gleefully screaming, “Unca R!”

Éponine couldn’t help but laugh as she watched Victoire leap into Grantaire’s arms, the man catching her in record time while the toddler immediately went to grab at his unruly black curls, tugging insistently at them and laughing at the mildly pained look on his face as she did so. She went over to Enjolras’ side, putting an arm around his waist as he did the same with her shoulders just as Combeferre walked up to them, a wide grin on his face.

“Congratulations on the engagement!” Combeferre congratulated them warmly, embracing Enjolras before doing the same with Éponine. Enjolras couldn’t help but grin back, unbelievably happy and still rejoicing over the fact that Éponine actually said _yes_.

“Thanks, ’Ferre,” Éponine replied, flashing him a dimpled grin.

“When’s the wedding?” Bahorel shouted out from nearby.

“Next autumn!” Éponine called back in response. When she was met by disappointed groans and complaints of how that was to be in over a year, she got up on a chair and called out, “Guys! We’re still sorting things out, all right? Almost none of our plans are set in stone yet, we literally just got engaged a week ago.” She smiled approvingly when the Amis quieted down, going back to their own things as Éponine stepped off the chair and looked around at the decorations.

She had no doubt the decorations were all Cosette’s doing, perhaps with a little help from Feuilly and Jehan—gold and silver balloons spelling out “congratulations on the engagement!” were taped up on the wall above the fireplace, streamers and fairy lights hanging everywhere and giving the place a sort of warm atmosphere. On the wall spaces between the windows, Éponine noticed pictures of her and Enjolras together through the years, even when they hadn’t been together, had been pasted up and tastefully arranged against the red bricks, a good portion of the pictures containing Victoire as well. Snacks lined a long table pushed up against the wall under the windows, containing popcorn, Skittles, Cheetos puffs, Doritos, cupcakes, several different kinds of pies, and God knows what else among them, and music was playing in the background, Éponine noticing that the song currently playing was “Perfect”. The thought that the music was probably off a playlist of love songs got her thinking about how she and Enjolras would have to decide on a song to dance to for their first dance as a married couple, and the mere thought of it made her shiver with excitement.

She didn’t notice Musichetta and Cosette approach her until one of them tapped her on the shoulder, and Éponine jumped, startled as she turned to look at them both. “Jesus fuck, don’t scare me like that!” she hissed, her face flushed red with embarrassment.

The other two women remained unfazed, and to Éponine’s alarm, Cosette’s eyes filled with tears as she reached up to place her hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “We’re so happy for you, Eppy!” she squealed, biting her lip as she smiled up at Éponine. “We’ve been wondering when Enjy was going to propose for a while now.”

“Let us see the ring!” Musichetta practically demanded, although her tone of voice was fairly light. Éponine laughed and brought her left hand up for Musichetta and Cosette to see, the pair letting out little “oooooh’s” of admiration upon seeing the ring.

“Oh, wow,” Musichetta breathed out, lightly running a finger over the tiny diamonds and the aquamarine inlaid in the ring. “Ep, this is gorgeous.”

“Enjy really went all out, didn’t he?” Cosette remarked blithely, looking back up at Éponine once she had satisfied herself with the sight of Éponine’s engagement ring. “How did he propose?”

“He brought me and Vicky out to a field near one of his parents’ log cabins around sunset,” Éponine replied. “He told me he wanted to take us to see the fireflies. I just stood there by a tree and watched him and Vicky playing with the fireflies for the most part until he came back to me. Vicky was still playing in the field; I have pictures if you want to see them later, they’re really nice. We were talking and then he just popped the question, I guess.” Éponine scrunched up her face, her mind going back to the night Enjolras proposed, and she amended, “Actually, he didn’t technically _ask_ , now that I think of it. We talked about marriage for a bit and I told him I’d say yes if he was planning on proposing, so he just took the ring out of his pocket and said, ‘Marry me.’” She smiled at the memory, remembering how she had felt as if she was on cloud nine when he proposed to her and how she had jumped him in response, kissing him as if her life depended on it before finally saying yes.

Musichetta and Cosette were silent, attentive, as they listened to Éponine recount the tale of Enjolras’ marriage proposal to her, and once she was finished, Cosette let out a dreamy sigh. “That’s so sweet,” she cooed, rubbing her abdomen. Éponine’s gaze fell to Cosette’s stomach and she smiled at the sight of her bump. The blonde was about twenty-one weeks along now, and apparently multiples tended to be born earlier, so Éponine supposed she would have Marius and Cosette’s twins attending her wedding to Enjolras by the time it finally rolled around. Not that she wouldn’t even if they were born at forty weeks; the wedding was hopefully to be in just a little bit over a year, and Cosette was five months along already.

“You’re glowing,” Éponine complimented, and Cosette’s face flushed pink.

“Thanks,” the blonde replied rather shyly, rubbing her swelling stomach. “I still can’t believe there’s two of them in me, though.”

“Neither can we,” Musichetta said, laughing.

“Where are you going for the honeymoon, Eppy?” Cosette turned the attention back to Éponine, not wanting her pregnancy to be the talk of the hour when Éponine and Enjolras were the ones being celebrated. “Wait, are you two even going on a honeymoon?”

“Yeah, we are,” Éponine confirmed, a faint, giddy smile spreading across her face and carving dimples into her cheeks. “Vicky’s going to be staying with Enjolras’ parents while we’re in Paris.”

Musichetta and Cosette’s jaws dropped open simultaneously at the revelation that Éponine was to be honeymooning in fucking _Paris_ with Enjolras. “Paris, _France_?”

Éponine laughed. “Yeah, where the hell else?”

Musichetta’s eyes widened and without thinking, she screeched out, “Holy _shit_!”

“There are little ears here!” Grantaire hollered back, covering Victoire’s as Azelma flinched in the corner, desperately trying to calm Louis down with Courfeyrac’s help and only resulting in Louis wailing even louder.

Musichetta brought her hand to her mouth, whispering, “Shit.”

Éponine shook her head, trying to restrain herself from smiling in amusement. “We’ve got little kids around us now, Chetta. Watch your language.”

“Jesus, fine,” Musichetta muttered, cheeks flamed red in mortification.

“Oh, by the way—” Another thought popped into Éponine’s head just then and she needed confirmation from Musichetta and Cosette, and so she requested, “Will you two be my bridesmaids?”

Musichetta’s eyes practically popped out of their sockets at Éponine’s request and Cosette was quick to reply, squealing and saying, “Eppy, of course we will! We’d be honoured to!”

Éponine grinned at their enthusiasm. “Sweet. You two are my bridesmaids now, no take backs.”

Éponine soon left Musichetta and Cosette to make her way over to Grantaire, who was sitting on the rug before the TV with Victoire in his lap. The two of them were watching _The Little Mermaid_ —or at least, Grantaire was; Victoire was too busy trying to coax Toby over to her by reaching out to the dog and making grabby hands as she babbled incoherently. Éponine plopped down beside Grantaire and her daughter on the rug, a huge grin on her face.

“Congrats on the engagement, Ep,” Grantaire told her, grinning at her as he turned his head to press a kiss to her temple. “We were wondering when Enj would suck it up and finally propose.”

“Well, he did, and I said yes.” Éponine held out her left hand to admire her ring, still dazzled by its beauty and catching herself wondering how much it could have possibly cost. Grantaire immediately grabbed her hand to bring it closer to his face so he could properly inspect the ring. After a while, he let out a low, appreciative whistle, green eyes sparkling.

“Damn,” Grantaire murmured, yelping when Éponine smacked him in the arm.

“Don’t swear around my kid!” she scolded him, gesturing to Victoire. The toddler remained oblivious, still trying to coax Toby over.

“Oh, like you never do,” Grantaire retorted. “Anyway, that’s a really nice ring. He must like you a lot,” he drawled, feigning indifference.

“I like to think he does,” Éponine replied airily, playing along and glancing over at Enjolras—he was surrounded by Combeferre, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Joly, being congratulated on working up the balls to finally propose after about a year and a half of being with Éponine. She couldn’t help but smile at the mere sight of him—to think, hopefully in a little over a year they were going to be married and she’d finally get to call him her husband.

“Can I be the flower boy at your wedding?” Grantaire’s words brought Éponine out of her trance and she turned her head to glance at him while he bounced Victoire up and down in his lap. The toddler seemed to have given up on trying to wheedle Toby into approaching her and had settled for watching _The Little Mermaid_ , finally admitting defeat.

Éponine scrunched up her face. “Sorry, R, but ’Jolras and I’ve already decided that this little peanut here—” she gestured to Victoire “—is going to be our flower girl.”

Victoire looked up at her mother upon hearing the affectionate nickname her parents had for her and she beamed at Éponine, dimples carving themselves into her cheeks, and she reached for Éponine. “Mommy!”

“Come here, Vicky!” Éponine picked Victoire up, out of Grantaire’s lap and into her own, and Toby immediately rushed over to Grantaire and leapt into his dad’s lap, wagging his tail. Éponine couldn’t help but cackle at the sight, remarking slyly, “Looks like somebody’s a little jealous of Peanut.”

Toby simply barked in response, evoking laughter from both Grantaire and Éponine, and Victoire soon joined in, giggling and clapping her hands despite having no idea what was going on. “Looks like he is,” Grantaire said once his laughter had died down. Looking between Victoire and Éponine, marvelling at the similarities in appearance—Victoire was basically a mini Éponine, only with blonde hair and Enjolras’ smile as well as that tiny cleft in her chin that she had gotten from him—Grantaire commented, “I guess that makes sense, having Vicky be your flower girl.”

Éponine pressed a tender kiss to the top of Victoire’s head as the little girl turned her attention back to _The Little Mermaid_ , tuning out everything else once again. She loved her darling baby girl so much; she had spent nights crying in Enjolras’ arms over the course of the past year, worrying about whether or not she was a horrible mom after recalling how her own mother had fucked her up, but he never failed to reassure her of her capabilities as a mother, always there to remind her that she wasn’t her parents and she wasn’t going to screw this up. “I just love her so much,” Éponine mumbled, her voice barely audible. “She has to be a part of the wedding.”

“Well, yeah, she’s your _daughter_ ,” Grantaire pointed out, stating the obvious. “I’d be concerned if she wasn’t. When are you planning on getting married?”

“Late September or early October next year,” Éponine replied, caressing Victoire’s soft golden hair as the little girl kept her deep brown eyes glued on the TV screen. “’Jolras and I’ve decided on getting married in Central Park like Marius and Cosette did. Maybe we’ll even have the ceremony on Cherry Hill like they did. We still haven’t decided on a venue for the reception yet, though—I’ve looked some places up, they’re all equally nice and that’s making it hard to decide between them.” Éponine lightly rested her chin on the top of Victoire’s head, swaying slightly from side to side to “Part of Your World”.

“Wow,” Grantaire murmured. It felt like it had been only yesterday when he and Éponine first approached Les Amis at that café that had become their sacred spot, and now here they all were. “It’s kind of hard to believe you’re actually getting married.”

“Yeah, well, it was kind of hard to believe I was pregnant with Vicky here when I was, but look at us now.” She patted Victoire’s head and pressed another soft kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, making her giggle slightly. Éponine sighed, giddy about her upcoming wedding and impatient to set a date. “I’m just so excited,” she murmured, a smile spreading across her face and quickly morphing into a huge grin. “I was seriously considering asking ’Jolras to elope, I’m so excited.”

“Hey, we want to be a part of this too,” Grantaire mock-protested, feigning an indignant look and eliciting a snort from Éponine.

“Yeah, that’s why we didn’t end up eloping, my dear R,” Éponine informed him, sickening sweetness dripping from her tone. “You’ll probably be asked to be one of the groomsmen.” Looking around at their friends, Éponine remarked, “I think all of you guys will be asked to be groomsmen. That’s how it was with Marius and Cosette’s wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire grinned to himself upon imagining the bachelor party they were inevitably going to throw for Enjolras after forcing him into agreeing to let them do so, already beginning to get ideas and making mental notes to bring them up later. “I look really hot in a tux.”

“Too bad Jehan hasn’t noticed yet,” Éponine commented slyly. Grantaire was quick to smack her in the arm, glaring at her and only succeeding in making her laugh her ass off at his expense.

“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flaming red. “I’ll have you know we’ve been out on _several_ dates now. Things are getting pretty serious, Ep.”

“If you say so.” Éponine turned her attention back to the TV screen, absent-mindedly stroking Victoire’s hair as the two of them watched _The Little Mermaid_ , Victoire completely focused on the movie.

After a while, Grantaire asked, “Will you and Enj be going on a honeymoon?”

“Yep,” Éponine responded surely, popping the ‘p’ and smiling at the thought. “We’re going to Paris.”

“Oh, wow, _Paris_?” Grantaire’s green eyes widened at the information, wondering how the hell they were going to cover all the wedding costs. “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Enjolras’ parents insisted on paying for everything,” Éponine explained, shrugging. “We tried to turn it down but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I guess we’re going to splurge. They offered to take care of Vicky while we’re in Paris as well, so we’ll be leaving her with them for two weeks or for however long our honeymoon will be.”

“Wow.” Grantaire let out another low whistle, amazed by how much thought Éponine had already put into the wedding.

After some time, Éponine murmured, “Vicky?”

Victoire turned around to crane her neck and look up at her mother upon hearing her name, brown eyes wide. Éponine told her softly, “I’m going to leave you with Uncle R, okay? I’m going to go see Auntie Zelma. We can do that, right, baby?”

Victoire simply smiled that sweet little smile of hers at Éponine, displaying four teeth and little dimples, and babbled some nonsense in response, evoking a laugh from Éponine. “I’ll take that as a yes, then!”

She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before lifting her out of her lap and handing her over to Grantaire; Toby had jumped out of his lap to go explore the loft for a little bit, having been spending more and more time over there for the past few weeks. Victoire immediately stood up to face Grantaire, grabbing his face with her starfish hands and kissing his nose; Éponine could hear Grantaire laughing loudly at the gesture as she made her way over to Azelma in the corner.

Azelma and Courfeyrac had finally managed to get Louis to calm down, the three-month-old now peacefully sleeping in his stroller, and the redhead was a little more than a bit frazzled by the time Éponine made her way over to her. Courfeyrac had left to congratulate Enjolras before Éponine found her way to Azelma, and the brunette asked, “You okay?”

“I’m sorry if I ever belittled or made fun of your parenting efforts in this past year, whether intentional or not,” Azelma blurted out rapidly, the words spilling out of her mouth all at once. Her curly auburn hair was a bit of a mess, her clothing wrinkled and bags beginning to form under her eyes, and Éponine pursed her lips at the sight. Azelma’s hazel eyes were full of despair as she asked, “Ep, tell me the truth—am I a terrible mom? Am I just like _our_ mom?”

“No, Zelma, of course not!” Éponine was quick to reassure Azelma that she was nothing like their own mother was. “You’re trying your best. We all are. That’s what matters in the end.”

“But what if Louis grows up to hate me even when I’m trying my best?” Azelma wailed, glancing at the sleeping baby in the stroller beside her. “It’s happened before, Ep, kids end up hating their parents even if their parents are trying their best and doing what they think is right for the kid. I don’t want that to happen.”

“It won’t,” Éponine firmly reassured Azelma. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

She glanced at Louis, sleeping soundly in the stroller, a corner of his blankie scrunched up in his little fist—he had quite a bit of hair for being only three months old, having inherited Azelma’s auburn hair, a mass of curls like both his parents'. Besides the fact that he also had Azelma’s hazel eyes and olive skin tone, Louis looked like a tiny baby Courfeyrac, and Éponine smiled at the sight of her nephew, restraining herself from reaching out and softly pinching his chubby cheek.

“Congrats on the engagement, Éponine.” Azelma’s change of subject brought Éponine back to earth and she looked up to look at her sister, who had smoothed out her hair as best as she could and mustered a smile. “Can I see the ring?”

Éponine held out her left hand for Azelma to see, and she let out a small whistle at the sight of the stunning engagement ring on Éponine’s ring finger. “Damn,” she murmured, running a finger over the aquamarine the ring had been embellished with. “This shit must’ve been _expensive_.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.” Éponine joined Azelma in admiring her engagement ring, thinking about how she had barely ever taken it off in the past week with the exceptions of when she and Enjolras were bathing Victoire and she was showering. Once she and Azelma were facing one another again, Éponine took a deep breath and requested, “Zel, will you be my maid of honour?”

Azelma nearly choked on her own spit. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Éponine affirmed, sheepish. “It’s just—you’re my sister and we’ve been through a fuckton of shit together. I think it’s only right that you’re my maid of honour. If you’re willing, obviously.”

“Of course I am!” Azelma’s hazel eyes were wide at Éponine’s words, and she was quick to say yes to her older sister’s request. “I’d love to be your maid of honour, Ep.”

Éponine positively beamed when Azelma agreed, letting out a cry of delight and pulling her sister into a tight embrace, which Azelma awkwardly returned. Éponine was planning on asking Gavroche later if he would be willing to escort her down the aisle since their father was very much absent from their lives and had been for the better part of seven years or so and she turned around as her hand went to her locket to play around with it, her gaze landing on Enjolras, who was surrounded by most of the Amis, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him looking so utterly helpless as they peppered him with questions.

At the kitchen island, Enjolras was being bombarded with questions left and right, having been trapped by Courfeyrac, Jehan, Bahorel, Feuilly, Marius, Joly, and to some extent, Combeferre, and there was no escaping them now, not when they were talking over each other so damn much and practically attacking him with all their questions. Combeferre remained the calmest out of all of them, keeping silent for the most part, although Enjolras didn’t miss the sympathetic looks Combeferre sent his way as the others barraged him with endless, often repetitive questions.

“Guys!” Combeferre eventually shouted over the noise, effectively shutting them all up. The bespectacled man gestured to a helpless Enjolras, telling them all, “One question at a time, you’re stressing Enjolras out. Lord knows he’s already got enough to stress about with the wedding he has to plan.”

“Thank you for the reminder, ’Ferre,” Enjolras grumbled under his breath. He just wanted to get married to Éponine, damn it—he didn’t care how or when or where, all that mattered to him was finally being able to call her his wife.

Although admittedly, the idea of a big white wedding _did_ sound appealing, though neither he nor Éponine wanted too many guests—he vaguely recalled how they had discussed not liking being surrounded by so many people a million years ago at Marius and Cosette’s wedding. He was willing to put up with having a million guests if his parents insisted on it, though. A small price to pay for finally getting to marry the love of his life.

“How d’you feel, Enjy?” Courfeyrac questioned, grinning from ear to ear and wiggling his eyebrows.

“I just want to marry her already,” Enjolras admitted, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a slight smile. “We probably would have gotten married the day after I proposed if we had had our way.”

“No offence, but we’re glad you didn’t,” Bahorel told him candidly, taking a sip of wine. “We want to be a part of this shit too, you know. Our chief and my little sister getting married. We’ve been waiting for this for a long time now, you have no fucking idea how sick we all were of all the pining between you two.”

“Which is precisely why we didn’t end up eloping,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes in mild amusement when Bahorel offhandedly referred to Éponine as his little sister despite the two of them having no relation whatsoever. “Will you guys be my groomsmen? All of you?”

“Is that even a question? Of course we will!” Feuilly gave Enjolras a warm smile, delighted at the news that two of his friends were finally on their way to tying the knot.

“We’re throwing a bachelor party for you, just FYI,” Courfeyrac butted in, grinning deviously at Enjolras and seeming to already have more than a few ideas in mind. Enjolras sighed, figuring that he might as well agree since the others would force him into having a bachelor party anyway if he refused.

“Okay, fine.”

“What’s it like being engaged?” Jehan questioned, bright-eyed and curious.

“Mostly the same, truth be told,” Enjolras replied. “It’s just the fact that she’s my fiancée now instead of my girlfriend that makes a difference.”

“But how do you _feel_?” Joly pressed.

“Excited.” Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having his friends bear witness to his wedding when it finally rolled around. “I just—I love her so much; I can’t wait to marry her.”

“Awww,” Jehan cooed, absolutely in love with how in love Enjolras was with Éponine. “You two are too cute together.”

“Where are you going to get married? And when?” Marius asked out of the blue, green eyes finding Enjolras’ blue.

“We’re planning on getting married in Central Park next autumn,” Enjolras responded. “Early September or late October. Maybe we could get married on Cherry Hill like you did?” He phrased it more like a question, and Marius beamed at him.

“Oh, that would be so neat!” Marius clapped his hands together, delighted as he asked, “What about the reception?”

“We’re planning on having an outdoor wedding and an indoor reception,” Enjolras told them all. “We’ve looked up some venues for the wedding reception; we haven’t decided on one yet, but I would really love to have the reception at the Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers.”

“Noice,” Courfeyrac commented, grinning widely.

“Are you two going on a honeymoon?” Feuilly enquired, leaning forward above the kitchen island.

“Yes, we’re going to Paris,” Enjolras told them. “Victoire’s going to stay with my parents while ’Ponine and I are in Paris.”

“You two are really going to go all out with this wedding, aren’t you?” Bahorel whistled appreciatively upon hearing Enjolras’ grand plans for his wedding. “How are you even going to afford everything?”

“My parents insisted on paying for it all,” Enjolras admitted, sheepish. “The wedding, the reception, the honeymoon, the clothes, the catering— _everything_. We tried to say no but they wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I suppose we’ll be going all out. I just want ’Ponine to be happy, honestly,” he murmured, bowing his head to try and hide his giddy smile. “We’ll definitely have to make some compromises at some point, but in the end, if she’s happy, then I’ll be too.”

Courfeyrac grinned and raised his glass, prompting the others to do the same, as he announced, “To Enjy!”

“To Enjolras!”

Enjolras felt his cheeks grow warm at the gesture, and eventually enough, they had all dispersed except for Combeferre. Enjolras was just about to speak when he felt something collide with his legs; he looked down to find that Victoire had fallen backwards into a sitting position, eyes watery and in a daze from her collision, and she started to cry— _loudly_ —reaching up for Enjolras and wailing, “Daddy Daddy Daddy!”

He bent down to pick her up, gently shushing her and bouncing her up and down in his arms as she stuck her thumb in her mouth, sucking at it, tears streaking her pudgy cheeks. “It’s all right, Peanut,” he murmured softly to her, gently bouncing her up and down as her wails gradually died down. “Daddy’s here.”

After a while, Victoire took her thumb out of her mouth and wiped the saliva off on her little blue shortalls before her arms went to wrap around her father’s neck, her head on his shoulder. Enjolras made sure she was secure in his arms before he turned back to Combeferre, who was watching the both of them intently.

“’Ferre, I have a huge favour to ask of you,” Enjolras began, grimacing slightly when Victoire grabbed some of his curls in her hand and tugged at them.

“Whatever it is, the answer is yes,” Combeferre responded swiftly.

Enjolras chuckled, his head being tugged down a little bit as Victoire pulled at his hair even more insistently, merrily laughing and babbling as she twisted her little fingers into her father’s golden curls. “So you’ll be my best man?”

“Of course I will,” Combeferre replied, positively beaming at Enjolras. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel great.” Enjolras paused for a moment to press a kiss to Victoire’s forehead once she finally disentangled her fingers from his hair, grabbing his face and kissing his nose, evoking a laugh from both him and Combeferre. Once Enjolras had turned back to Combeferre, he asked rather hesitantly, “Combeferre, do you think—will I—do you think I’ll be a good husband to ’Ponine?”

Combeferre reached out to place a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder. “I know you will, Enjolras.” Combeferre was completely earnest as he told the groom-to-be, “You’ve already done such a great job so far being her boyfriend and Victoire’s father. Honestly, you two are practically married already—you just haven’t made it completely official yet.”

“I don’t want to let her down,” Enjolras murmured, his gaze trailing to Éponine across the room as Victoire grabbed at his hair again, and he smiled wistfully at the sight of his fiancée. “I don’t want to disappoint her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Enjolras was rarely this vocal about his innermost feelings, though Combeferre wasn’t surprised that now was one of those rare times when he was, considering how he was engaged to be married. He was understandably anxious about things; it was certainly a massive step for both him and Éponine, actually getting married. Combeferre patted Enjolras’ shoulder, noticing how Victoire’s starfish hands were still wound into her father’s curls and resisting a laugh at the sight of Enjolras looking so obviously uncomfortable as his daughter tugged at his hair, the little blonde toddler giggling and looking as if her father’s discomfort was the funniest thing in her life at the moment.

“I’m sure Éponine feels the same way,” Combeferre reassured Enjolras. “She wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if she didn’t, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Enjolras bit his lip, gazing at Éponine from a distance and wincing slightly when Victoire gave his hair a particularly harsh tug. “I love her so much. I don’t want to let her down.”

“And you won’t,” Combeferre told him confidently. “Anyone could see how much you two clearly love each other and how much you both love Victoire. Will there be bumps in the road along the way? Absolutely, but you two always work things out. You have nothing to worry about, Enjolras.” Changing the subject a bit, Combeferre added, “Also, I’ll make sure Courf’s bachelor party plans don’t get too out of hand.”

Enjolras mustered a smile before it quickly morphed back into a grimace when Victoire pulled at his hair yet again, giggling the entire time. “Thanks, ’Ferre.”

Combeferre soon left to go chat with Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet, leaving Enjolras at the kitchen island with a restless Victoire in his arms. From across the room, Enjolras caught Éponine’s eye, and upon seeing her face light up with a dimpled grin when she noticed him looking at her, her deep brown eyes sparkling, he smiled.


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy barricade day!! [cries in a corner] enjoy an early little update!!
> 
> also, i recently just started another multichapter fic, an amis-centric road trip au [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851733), so if you could go give that a little bit of love, that would be great!!

* * *

“Christ, I thought she would never stop screaming,” Éponine bemoaned, exhausted as she climbed into bed to join Enjolras after putting Victoire to bed. Enjolras had bathed her and fed her dinner, leaving Éponine to fulfil the task of putting the toddler to bed. Unfortunately enough, Victoire had thrown a tantrum when she was passed from Enjolras to Éponine, screaming her head off and wailing loud enough for the neighbours to hear. After bouncing Victoire up and down in her arms for half an hour or so and singing softly to her, Éponine had finally managed to get the toddler to calm down, Victoire eventually nodding off before Éponine tucked her into bed. After making sure Victoire was sound asleep, Éponine had gone to join Enjolras in their bedroom, hair in disarray and slight bags under her eyes, and she lay down beside Enjolras on the bed, curling into him and letting out a yawn, grumbling under her breath, “She likes you a lot more than she likes me.”

“That’s not true,” Enjolras contradicted, putting an arm around Éponine and pulling her closer to him as she laid her head on his chest, her fingers beginning to absent-mindedly trace his abs through his tight red T-shirt. “Victoire loves you.”

“She doesn’t seem to show it most of the time,” Éponine mumbled, her mind drifting to thoughts of how much of a daddy’s girl their daughter was. “’Jolras, am I a horrible mom?”

“No, you aren’t,” Enjolras responded automatically, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone love their child as much as you do, and that’s saying something, considering I have the parents I do.”

Éponine smiled feebly at her fiancé’s words, only slightly reassured. “I just don’t want to fuck her up the way my parents fucked me up.”

“Hey, you won’t.” Enjolras pressed another reassuring kiss to Éponine’s forehead, still stroking her hair as they snuggled up under the duvet together. “I got you that ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ mug a few months ago, didn’t I?”

Éponine lightly shoved him, though he could hear the smile in her voice as she murmured, “Enjolras, I’m being serious.”

“The mug isn’t lying,” Enjolras told her softly.

Éponine twisted a little bit to look up at him, a little smile on her face. “I love you, pretty boy.”

Enjolras smiled back at her and leaned in to press a tender kiss to her lips. “I love you too, ’Ponine.”

Once they had settled back into bed together, Éponine curled into Enjolras with his arms around her, she murmured, “Can you believe it? We’re actually going to be married.”

“I’m just glad you said yes,” Enjolras replied softly, kissing the top of her head.

“You _knew_ I was going to say yes, you dork.” Éponine lightly pummelled him in the arm, laughing under her breath before she laid her head back on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and admiring her engagement ring. “So will we be having the wedding on Cherry Hill like Marius and Cosette did?”

“Yes, I think so,” Enjolras confirmed, absently twisting a lock of her hair around his finger. “What about the reception?”

“There are so many nice places to choose from.” Éponine let out a soft sigh, wondering when they would ever figure it out. “I can’t decide between them.”

“What do you think of holding the reception at the Lighthouse at Chelsea Piers?” Enjolras suggested, pressing an absent-minded kiss to the top of her head once again. “We could have the wedding in the afternoon and then have the reception later on so we could watch the sun setting over the Hudson.”

“I haven’t looked up the Lighthouse yet, what does it look like?” Éponine pursed her lips, scrunching up her face as Enjolras reached over to grab his phone off the nightstand to pull up some pictures online to show Éponine. The glow from the little screen illuminated their faces in the dark, and Enjolras stroked Éponine’s hair and watched as her eyes widened upon seeing pictures of a wedding reception at the Lighthouse.

“Yes,” Éponine declared immediately. “ _Fuck_ yes, we’re holding our wedding reception there. We’ve got to.”

“Really?” Enjolras asked, hope evident in his voice.

“Hell yeah, let’s have our reception there!” Éponine affirmed, looking up to grin at him.

“So it’s settled, then?” Enjolras leaned in, his forehead pressing against hers as she giggled.

“Yes, ’Jolras. We’re going to have our wedding reception at the Lighthouse.” Éponine’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned in to press her lips to his, feeling him grin that goofy grin of his into the kiss as she reached up with her left hand to cup his jaw, caressing his cheek tenderly. Once she had pulled away from him and laid her head on his chest once again, he placed his phone back on the nightstand and pulled her close, his arms wrapped tight around her.

“So I guess we should book the earliest available date for both venues as soon as possible, then,” Éponine murmured, smiling as she rested her head against Enjolras’ chest.

“Tomorrow morning,” Enjolras promised her, kissing her forehead. “If Victoire sleeps through the night.”

“She will,” Éponine said surely. She wasn’t sure why exactly she was so certain—mother’s instinct, perhaps? “A lot’s been going on in the past two weeks, she’s probably exhausted from moving around so much.” After the impromptu engagement party two weeks ago, Éponine and Enjolras had gone on to hire a wedding planner, Christine, and they had been arranging meetings with photographers and vendors and catering companies and whatnot, and poor Victoire had been brought along on many of those appointments whenever none of the Amis were available to babysit her. Éponine and Enjolras didn’t want to leave their daughter with a stranger, so as a result, she had been towed around with them as the wedding plans slowly solidified.

The two of them lay there in silence for a little while more until Éponine mumbled, “Enjolras?”

“Mhmm?” he hummed in acknowledgement upon hearing his name, having been beginning to nod off.

“This is probably a stupid question, but when did you realise you wanted to marry me?” Éponine asked softly, a slight quiver in her voice.

“That’s not a stupid question.” Enjolras placed another kiss on her forehead as he murmured in response, “I realised it when you were holding Victoire for the first time after you woke up from your coma. You just looked so happy, so fulfilled, sitting there and holding our Peanut, and I knew right then and there that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Éponine bit down on her lip to stifle the massive smile she felt beginning to form on her face as she questioned, “Why did you wait a year to propose, then?”

“I thought we should get used to being parents first before jumping into marriage,” Enjolras explained quietly, his voice soft as he stroked her hair. “Get used to taking care of Victoire first before we tie the knot.”

“Oh, okay, that’s fair.” Éponine snuggled into him even more as she pulled the blanket up to their necks, wrapping it around them. She giggled rather giddily to herself as she looked at her ring once again, still trying to completely wrap her head around the fact that she was engaged to Enjolras now and they were going to be married. “This is all so surreal, honestly. We’re getting _married_.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you saying that,” Enjolras told her, kissing her forehead yet again.

Éponine lifted her head up slightly to gaze into his eyes with a giddy smile on her face. “We’re getting _married_ , ’Jolras.”

“Yes, we are.” He pressed a kiss to her nose, evoking a small laugh from her, and he smiled, overwhelmed by just how much he loved her.

Éponine let out a long, contented sigh, laying her head on his chest once again and listening to his steady heartbeat. “I love you, Enjolras. Good night.”

“I love you too, ’Ponine.” Enjolras pressed a tender kiss to her forehead as her eyelids began to droop. He himself was beginning to drift off by the time he murmured, “Good night, my love.”

* * *

Éponine felt as if she couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot as she walked into school on September first, eager to start another school year. It was a shame that all of her favourites had graduated at this point—Sebastian Dupont, Maddy Beauregard, Sonia Abel… It turned out Sebastian had a younger brother, Alistair, who was now a junior, and though he didn’t come close to replacing his older brother in Éponine’s eyes, he was still hilarious to have in her class. Éponine wondered if she would maybe run into any of her former students while out and about in the city; maybe then she could break the news about her engagement. Or not.

Glancing down at the ring on her left hand, Éponine smiled, thinking about how they had finally secured a date for both venues in early October—she and Enjolras were to be married on October seventh, and they would be taking off to Paris a week after. She figured taking a week to unwind and relax before the honeymoon would get rid of those alleged “post-wedding blues” Angela made mention of at some point when she and Antoine had been in the city for a visit. With their help, Éponine and Enjolras had made a list of wedding guests—eighty people or so, mostly friends and some of Enjolras’ extended family—and some save-the-date cards had already been made, though most of them were being saved to be sent eight months prior to the wedding itself. Éponine walked the halls of the school, making her way to the principal’s office; she figured she would give Javert’s save-the-date card to him in person, seeing how they were coworkers. She and Enjolras had given cards to Les Amis, Grantaire’s sister Rachelle, Cosette’s father, and Marius’ grandfather already; the rest were to be sent out later on, sometime in February.

After greeting the secretary and chatting with her for a bit, Éponine casually announcing her engagement, the young woman went to knock on Javert’s door, biting her lip rather apprehensively. When she heard that familiar, somewhat curt voice calling, “Come in,” she opened the door and stepped inside the room, trying not to smile so much as she went to sit down in front of Javert’s desk.

“Éponine!” Javert smiled at her—she was rather thrown off, considering how Javert barely ever smiled. “I heard of your engagement from Jean. Congratulations.”

Éponine beamed at Javert in response and dug around in her messenger bag for the card she had for him, and once she had found it, she handed it over to him. “I’m getting married on October seventh next year,” she told him happily, handing him the card.

“I’ll clear my calendar,” Javert assured her. He caught a glimpse of Éponine’s engagement ring as she handed him the card, and after sometime, he asked, “How have you been? How was your summer?”

“It was great!” Éponine replied cheerfully, her right hand absently toying with her locket. “How was yours, sir?”

“It was nice, I suppose. Marius and Cosette invited Jean and I to go to Disney World with them.” Javert went silent for a few moments before he asked, “How are Enjolras and Victoire?”

“They’re doing great.” Grantaire and Toby had shown up at Éponine and Enjolras’ place that morning to babysit Victoire, Enjolras having left for work around the same time Éponine did.

After chatting for a bit, Éponine pulled up the sleeve of her leather jacket to glance at her watch, eyes widening at the sight of the time. “Oh, shit, I’ve got to go.” She picked up her messenger bag and quickly got out of her chair, bidding Javert goodbye and speed-walking out of the office on her way to her classroom. After five minutes of taking the stairs two at a time and running in her ankle boots, she reached her classroom just in time, her junior students already milling about in the classroom. She went up to her desk to drop her messenger bag onto her chair before she went to the front of the class, clapping her hands together and calling for order.

“Welcome to a new school year, guys!” Éponine greeted them brightly, beaming at the class. “How was your summer?”

“We dropped Seb and Maddy off at the Rhode Island School of Design,” Alistair piped up. “Things are getting pretty serious between them. Also, I went to Universal Studios!”

“I spent the summer in Chicago,” Malory Archambault offered.

“We went to California!” Jayden Raynell chimed in.

“What about you, Miss T?” Alistair questioned, flashing a grin at the twenty-five-year-old teacher, a grin identical to his older brother’s. “How was _your_ summer?”

“I got engaged,” Éponine casually revealed as she held up her left hand to give them a glimpse of her ring, resisting a snort when her students’ jaws dropped, seemingly in tandem. “I’m getting hitched next October.”

The class went silent for several moments before Alistair burst out, “Holy _shit_!”

“Who are you marrying?” Mia Reynolds asked excitedly, tucking some stray black curls behind her ear as she leaned forward in her seat.

“My boyfriend, who else?” Éponine smiled giddily at the pleasant reminder that she was actually marrying Enjolras, amending, “Well, technically, he’s my fiancé now.”

“Is he your super hot baby daddy that Seb and Maddy talk about a lot?” Alistair enquired inquisitively, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Wait, they still do?” Éponine’s brow furrowed at the revelation, amused at the thought of Sebastian Dupont and Maddy Beauregard still talking about her and Enjolras. Alistair nodded in confirmation, and Éponine went on, “Yeah, he proposed over the summer. We’re getting married on October seventh next year and we’ll be going to Paris for our honeymoon.”

“Well, shit, congrats, Miss T!” Malory leaned back in her seat, a look of amazement on her face. Several students joined Malory in their congratulations, all congratulating Éponine on her recent engagement.

“Thanks, guys,” Éponine responded, grinning. For the first time in what was probably ages, Éponine felt as if she was soaring, feeling as if she was on cloud nine and that nothing could go wrong now. She had a great job, she was a mother to the most perfect little girl, she had the most incredible friends and siblings she could ever possibly ask for, and she was engaged to the love of her life. Nothing could stop her now.

“How’s Vicky, Miss T?” Mia asked after some time.

“Oh, she’s doing great,” Éponine replied cheerfully. “She’s with her Uncle R now. He babysits when ’Jolras and I are at work.” Briskly clapping her hands together, she announced, “Okay, enough chit-chat! Let’s get started and make this school year our _bitch_!”

Alistair pumped his fist into the air as several students cheered. “Hell yeah!”


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i'm officially on summer vacation, all concept of time has been thrown out the window for me for the next couple of months or so, so here's another filler-ish update for you guys <3

* * *

“So when should we make appointments at the boutique?”

Éponine looked up from her phone, furrowing her brow in slight confusion. Enjolras was sitting on the rug in the living room with Victoire in his lap, lightly bouncing her up and down as the two of them watched _The Hunchback of Notre-Dame_ , and he had turned his head to look at Éponine expectantly. Victoire was blissfully unaware, giggling to herself as she continued watching the movie, clapping her hands together. Quite a few months had passed since they got engaged; it was New Year’s Day now, the two of them having stayed up to watch the ball drop on television after they put Victoire to bed. Éponine stared at Enjolras from her comfy spot on the sofa, at a loss for words. “Appointments for what?”

“Well, I’ll need to find a tuxedo and you’ll need a dress, won’t you?” Enjolras replied matter-of-factly, still bouncing Victoire up and down. “We also need a dress for Victoire, and it would probably be a good idea if we could bring the others along to go shopping for bridesmaid dresses and so I can get input on which tuxedo to choose because we’ll all be wearing matching tuxes.”

Éponine made a face. “Why do we have to buy them so early in advance?”

“Because we’ll need to make a lot of alterations to the clothes and have them fitted for us,” Enjolras replied patiently. “I know ten months feels like a long time, but October will be here before we know it, love. We might as well go clothes-shopping now.”

“If we buy Vicky’s dress now, she’ll probably have grown out of it by October,” Éponine pointed out.

Enjolras paused, stopping for a few moments until Victoire angrily babbled to him as if demanding to be bounced up and down again. He started doing so as he said, “You’ve got a point. We’ll buy Victoire’s dress later this year, then. I say we go get this little peanut a dress sometime in August.”

“Deal.” Éponine smiled at her fiancé. Only ten more months to go, and she’d be Mrs. Éponine Amélie _Enjolras_.

(She was definitely going to be getting rid of the name Thénardier. Hyphenating it would make it too much of a mouthful, and besides, she had grown to despise her maiden name after her relationship with her parents had gone sour, and she was impatient to finally, officially be rid of the name.)

“So when should we book the appointments?” Enjolras’ question brought Éponine back to earth and she turned her gaze back to him, attentive once again.

“I don’t know, sometime in March? We could tell the others in advance to clear their calendars so we can all go buy ourselves some wedding clothes,” Éponine suggested. “We don’t want our plans to clash with theirs.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at his fiancée, overwhelmed by just how much he loved her in that very moment. “’Ponine, I love you so much, you know that?”

Éponine smirked. “I know. I love you too, loser.”

“Daddy!” Victoire demanded attention and Enjolras was quick to return his focus to her, finding that she was looking up at him with a wide-eyed look on her face. She pointed at the crayons and paper scattered on the coffee table, saying, “Daw?”

“Okay, Peanut, let’s draw.” Enjolras lifted Victoire out of his lap and she toddled over to the coffee table as he scooted forward to meet her there, him sitting beside her as she grabbed a crayon with her left hand and began to clumsily trace patterns onto a blank sheet of paper. Éponine watched the two of them with a fond smile on her face as she inattentively fiddled with her locket, gazing at the twin heads of golden hair bent over the coffee table as Victoire scribbled away at the paper, Enjolras watching intently as she did so.

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?” Éponine remarked softly, Enjolras looking up to turn his head and look at her at her words. “I never really pegged you as the daddy type before.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Éponine paused. “No,” she said finally, letting out a breathy laugh. “That was a lie. Ever since we found out I was pregnant with her I knew you were going to treat her like a little angel.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes in amusement and smiled at his fiancée, watching as her laughter died down. “I just hope I won’t mess things up with her.”

“You won’t,” Éponine reassured him automatically. “If anything, you should be worried about me.”

Enjolras scoffed. “Nonsense, you’re a great mom. A person would have to be blind not to see how much you love Victoire.”

Éponine’s attempt at looking annoyed utterly failed, her lips stretching into a stupid little grin at his words. “Shut up.”

“Hey, watch it.” Enjolras patted Victoire’s back. “We don’t want her running around shouting that at everybody.”

“Stop! You’re annoying!” Éponine tossed a throw pillow at his head, missing Enjolras completely and nearly hitting Victoire instead. Her heart stopped for a fleeting moment as she braced herself for the meltdown, but amazingly, Victoire didn’t seem to have noticed, happily oblivious and continuing to scribble away on the paper, drawing nonsense figures with her crayons and swaying slightly from side to side as she listened to the music coming from the TV.

Éponine thought back to the past few months—they had made a binder full of wedding plans with the help of their wedding planner Christine, and all the plans were now set. They were going to meet with the photographers and videographers later on that week and then with their wedding officiant after making it clear when making the appointment that they wished to have a secular wedding, never having felt particularly attached to religion. Even though Angela and Antoine had initially disagreed, Éponine and Enjolras had insisted on setting a budget for the wedding so not to spend too much and go overboard. They had made sure their passports were up to date for their honeymoon, having booked the Royal Suite at the Hotel Plaza Athenée after being talked into it by Angela and Antoine despite how much it cost, the pair insisting that they’d pay for it all, and Enjolras had gone as far as to make a honeymoon itinerary for them. Éponine had decided to have Musichetta, Azelma, and Cosette wear bridesmaid dresses in some shade of red, having already consulted Gavroche about escorting her down the aisle; the boy was all too happy to do so. Éponine thought about how much her brother had grown in the past few years, having gone from a seventeen-year-old unsure of what to do for college to an almost twenty-year-old sophomore at NYU.

“Are you excited?” Éponine caught herself saying before she could stop herself. Enjolras looked up again to turn around and look at her.

“Excited to finally marry the love of my life? Yes, I am,” Enjolras responded candidly, a soft little smile lighting up his face. Éponine felt her cheeks flame red.

“You’re such a sap…” Éponine muttered, bowing her head and bringing her knit blanket closer to her face to try and hide her blush.

“Hey, I’m still catching up on three years of unrequited feelings even now,” Enjolras pointed out. “It’s still surreal to me. I’m still trying to completely wrap my head around the fact that we’re together at all, to be honest. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from this dream any moment now; it’s hard to believe we’re actually engaged.”

The look on Éponine’s face softened. “Well, you better believe it, pretty boy, because we’re getting married in ten months.” Saying it out loud made it feel like it was still such a long way away, and Éponine just wanted to be Enjolras’ wife already.

But she’ll admit, what she was secretly _really_ looking forward to was the honeymoon. Maybe her fantasies of having Enjolras screw her eight different ways in a luxurious honeymoon suite without any kids there to interrupt would finally come true. As much as she loved their daughter, Éponine was all too eager to finally have sex with Enjolras again without being interrupted by Victoire at some point or another. It had been about a month since the couple last slept together without any interruption, and that was only because Grantaire offered to take Victoire to Jehan’s place with him for the weekend so Éponine and Enjolras could have some peace and quiet and a little bit of uninterrupted fun in the sheets.

Éponine took to her phone again, aimlessly scrolling through Instagram and looking at Marius and Cosette’s countless pictures of their twins, Aimée and Adrien. Marius, being the person he was, had named Adrien after Courfeyrac, much to the man’s glee, and he had also been named godfather to little Adrien as well while Musichetta was godmother to Aimée. Éponine marvelled at Marius and Cosette’s ability to keep those smiles on their faces and stay cheerful even with how frazzled and exhausted they were, taking care of not one, but _two_ newborn babies, scrolling through Instagram and finding that her feed was absolutely dominated by photographs of Aimée and Adrien Pontmercy-Fauchelevent. Not that she could blame Marius and Cosette—her own Instagram page, as well as Enjolras’ during the rare occasion he posted something, had been completely taken over by pictures of Victoire in the past year and a half; Éponine sometimes posted selfies that Victoire had taken herself, though the toddler needed to work on her angles, the photo gallery on her phone having been taken over by pictures of corners of Victoire’s mouth, her forehead, her toes.

“Should we make dress appointments sometime in early March?” Éponine questioned.

“Early March sounds good,” Enjolras replied, his eyes still on little Victoire. “I can’t wait to see you in your dress.”

“You won’t see me in it until I’m walking down that aisle,” Éponine reminded him. “You’re not allowed to see me in it until I’m walking down that aisle.”

“Ten months feels like too much of a wait,” Enjolras mumbled, absently ruffling Victoire’s wavy golden hair as she continued to draw—or at least attempt to.

“We’ll be married before we know it, babe,” Éponine told him, turning her attention back to her phone.

She was still hardly able to believe this was her reality now—this sickeningly sweet, happy domesticity, with her sitting on the couch wrapped up in a knit blanket while Enjolras sat on the rug, in front of the coffee table, watching their daughter scribble away at a sheet of paper and talking softly to her as she babbled mostly incomprehensibly in response. Over the past five months, Victoire had picked up a few more words, and Éponine looked up when Victoire called out happily, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! Lookie!”

“What is it, Peanut?” Éponine went to sit down on Victoire’s other side, almost sandwiching the toddler between her and Enjolras. Victoire pointed at the multicoloured spirals and zigzags she had covered the sheet of paper with, and quite frankly, it was a pretty terrible drawing, but Éponine kept in mind how Victoire was only seventeen months old, saying brightly, “Ooh, pretty!”

Victoire grabbed a sheet of paper and slid it over to Éponine, handing her a bright red crayon. “Mommy, daw!” she commanded, a sparkle in her deep brown eyes.

“Okay, baby.” Éponine began to sketch out a picture of Victoire as best as she could with the blunt crayon, Victoire watching her intently with a wide dimpled smile on her face before she grabbed another sheet of paper and began to scribble away once again as Enjolras gazed at the both of them with a soft, affectionate smile on his face.

“Hey.” Éponine looked up upon hearing Enjolras’ voice, looking at him expectantly as Victoire remained blissfully inattentive, still drawing her heart away. Enjolras gave her a little smile, blue eyes soft. “I love you.”

Éponine’s cheeks flushed pink as she smiled back at him, flustered by how candid he was being. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Éponine sat down in Marius and Cosette’s living room with the latter of the two, Marius off somewhere trying to put the twins to bed. Cosette’s typically immaculate blonde hair was all frizzy, dark bags under her blue eyes, and she sounded completely drained as she asked Éponine, “What is it?”

“I was wondering if you would accompany me tomorrow,” Éponine replied simply.

Blinking wearily, Cosette asked, “What’s going on tomorrow?”

“’Jolras and I are going to this wedding boutique to look for clothes for the wedding,” Éponine replied. “We’ve invited everyone else, Marius too. The boys are going to go with ’Jolras, I’ll need you and Chetta and Zel with me.”

“What about Aimée and Adrien?” Cosette asked, growing alarmed at the thought of leaving her children alone with a stranger.

“I’ve already called your dad and Javert, they’re more than happy to look after the twins tomorrow,” Éponine responded. “Will you come with me?”

Cosette bit her lip. “I’d love to, but I look so ugly and gross…” She trailed off, looking down at herself and frowning. “And I have these huge milk-filled boobs too…”

“Cosette, you’re not ugly.” Éponine reached out to pat the frazzled new mom on the back. “It takes some time to adjust, I know, and you’ve got double the trouble with two of them. Your dad and Javert are willing to take the weight off your and Marius’ shoulders for tomorrow so you can come with me and Enjolras and the others to go shopping for clothes.” Angela had volunteered to take Victoire out for the day tomorrow, driving in from upstate, while Courfeyrac’s mother had offered to take care of Louis so he and Azelma could go with Éponine and Enjolras and the rest of them. It was a much-needed break for all of them, Éponine thought.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Cosette agreed after a few moments of hesitation. “How do I get rid of these bags under my eyes?”

“Use chilled teaspoons,” Éponine replied swiftly. “Pop a couple of them in the freezer for some time and then put the round side on those bags under your eyes. So I’ll be seeing you tomorrow? I’ll text you the address.”

“Sure thing,” Cosette replied softly just as Marius came rushing back into the room, green eyes wild.

“Cosette, pookie, Aimée won’t stop crying,” Marius told her frantically. “Adrien’s gone to sleep but I don’t know how long that’ll last and I think Aimée wants you; she won’t stop crying even when I picked her up.”

As if on cue, a loud, piercing scream rang throughout the apartment from the direction of the nursery, a baby very clearly wailing at the top of her lungs, and Éponine got up as Cosette shot to her feet, taking off in the direction of the nursery as fast as her legs could take her.

“I guess now’s my time to leave,” Éponine announced, shooting Marius a quick smile. “Thanks for having me over.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow!” Marius called out as Éponine walked out the front door.


	5. Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my birthday's in two days, on the fourteenth, and i _would_ update on my birthday instead of today, but i probably won't be able to, seeing how i'll be on a plane for most of my birthday :/ so have this early update!!

* * *

Despite the fact that it was nearing the end of March, a snowstorm took Les Amis by surprise on the day they were going to accompany Éponine and Enjolras to pick out clothes for the wedding, and all of them were freezing their asses off once they had met up in front of the multi-level wedding boutique Enjolras had booked appointments at. Once Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet had arrived, Éponine was quick to rush inside, desperate to get out of the freezing cold. Without another word, she whisked Musichetta, Cosette, and Azelma off to the third floor of the boutique, leaving Enjolras there in the lobby with everyone else.

Once his fiancée and the other women had disappeared into an elevator somewhere, Enjolras turned around to face the others, suddenly nervous. This was a huge, _massive_ deal. “So I guess we’ll be looking for tuxedos, then! Shall we establish some rules?”

“Jehan’s not allowed to pick out any of the clothes,” Courfeyrac piped up immediately, earning himself a little “hey!” of protest from the ginger-haired man in question.

“Bahorel gets the final say,” Grantaire added.

The look on Enjolras’ face was quick to turn incredulous. “Why is _he_ getting the final say? _I’m_ the one getting married.”

“No offence, Enj, you’ve got excellent taste, but it’s just not as good as Bahorel’s,” Feuilly told him, apologetic.

“You don’t get a say in this, you’re dating him,” Enjolras retorted a little too snippily.

“He’s right, though,” Combeferre chimed in, walking over to stand beside Enjolras and place a calming hand on the golden-haired man’s shoulder. “How about this—what if you get the final say but Bahorel has to approve of it first?”

“It’s really fucking hilarious to hear you guys arguing about me, honestly,” Bahorel drawled from beside Feuilly, arms crossed across his chest and a smug smirk on his face. “It’s kind of flattering.”

“Okay, fine,” Enjolras relented, unable to keep himself from petulantly glowering at all of them. He didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he supposed having Bahorel’s input would prove to be valuable, especially since he was the best dressed out of all of them, always looking so effortlessly fashionable with everything he wore. If Bahorel approved of what Enjolras picked out, then Éponine was sure to love it. “Can we just look for clothes already?”

One of the shop employees escorted them off to an area absolutely bursting at the seams with tuxedos of all different kinds, Enjolras feeling as if they were being swallowed by the place as most of the others went to sit down on the couches provided. How the _fuck_ was he supposed to choose between all of these different choices? He’d never been too indecisive of a person, but in that moment, he was completely overwhelmed by the choice he probably had to make in the span of two hours.

Enjolras, unsure of what to do, followed his instincts and went over to one of the racks to pull off a tuxedo made of red velvet in his size, but before he could go and try it on in one of the dressing rooms, Bahorel immediately declared, “ _No._ Fuck no.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Enjolras asked in confusion, completely at a loss.

“It’s _hideous_ , for one,” Bahorel replied scathingly, eyeing the tuxedo as if it had insulted him personally and spat in his face. “You are _not_ getting married in that. It’s ugly as sin.”

Enjolras sighed and rolled his eyes, putting it back on the rack. He grabbed a different tuxedo off the rack, and so it began.

Meanwhile, Azelma, Musichetta, and Cosette were comfortably seated on a plush sofa on the third floor of the boutique as Éponine spoke enthusiastically with the consultant, Anya, a bright-eyed young woman about their age who bore a striking resemblance to Musichetta. “What kind of dress would you like, ma’am?” Anya questioned, a sunny smile spreading across her face.

“Just Éponine is fine,” Éponine replied, rather flustered. Instinctively, her hand went to her locket to fidget with it as she tended to do whenever she got nervous. “I… I’m not really sure, now that I think of it. I’ve been looking at some wedding dresses online, I think I have a bit of a vague idea of what I want.” Thinking back to the dresses that had tickled her fancy, Éponine amended, “Actually, all I know is that I want sleeves with my dress. Like, long sleeves. Either lace or appliqué.”

“Well, we’ll start with that, then!” Anya said brightly, leading Éponine off to look at billions of dresses. Éponine felt like she might faint at the sight of them all. How the fuck was she supposed to choose?

After ten minutes of browsing the racks, Éponine picked out a long-sleeved off-the-shoulder gown with a sweetheart neckline and a layered skirt of tulle, the skirt tapering away into a magnificent chapel train. When she came out of the dressing room to show her bridesmaids the dress, Azelma immediately nodded yes, giving her sister a double thumbs up. Musichetta and Cosette, however, weren’t as easily convinced.

“I don’t know…” Musichetta’s voice trailed off as she pursed her lips at the dress.

“It’s not really _you_ ,” Cosette told her gently, giving her an encouraging smile when Éponine’s face fell. “Eppy, it’s okay, you’ll go through a lot of dresses before you find the perfect one. That was the case for me.”

Éponine mustered a wan smile at her friend, though inside, she was rather horrified at the thought of trying on a gazillion more dresses before she settled for the perfect one. Turning back to the small consultant, she asked, “Anya, if you may?”

The next dress Éponine tried on wasn’t quite as extravagant as the previous one—this one had appliqué sleeves instead of lace, with a sheer overlay and a strapless undershirt with a sweetheart neckline attached to the tulle skirt, which had a sweep train. Éponine tried not to frown to herself as she exited the dressing room to show the others, finding the sleeves itchy and bothersome. The three women immediately shook their heads simultaneously upon seeing Éponine in the dress.

“Hell no,” Azelma said, making a face.

“Nope,” Musichetta echoed.

“No,” Cosette added.

Éponine sighed and went back with Anya, picking out another dress to try on. Only two dresses in and she was already tired.

Well, she supposed that was what came with having a big white wedding. She _did_ want to look her best on what was going to be one of the happiest days of her life, the other day being when Victoire was born.

This time, she was going to rule out appliqué sleeves; they were much too itchy and she refused to be uncomfortable all day on her wedding day. With Anya’s help, she took off the previous dress and slipped into the next one, observing herself in the mirror—it was much like the previous one with the white sweetheart-neckline undershirt, but the overlay had a boat neck and the lace sleeves reached her wrists, the cinched waist flowing into a lovely taffeta skirt that tapered off into a luxurious chapel train. When she came out to show the others, their reactions were mixed.

“We’re getting closer!” Cosette told her encouragingly, a bright smile on her face.

“Not this one, but like Cosette said, we’re getting closer,” Azelma chimed in, smiling at her sister.

After what felt like a million dresses later—in reality it was only about seventeen—Éponine found herself in a dress that she realised she never wanted to take off, observing herself in the mirror and feeling like she could cry at the sight of herself. Anya was beside her in the dressing room, beaming at Éponine through the mirror as the two of them stood there in the dressing room, Éponine transfixed by how she looked in the dress. It didn’t only just look nice either; it was comfortable as well, and she absolutely adored how she looked in it.

She knew this was the dress she would pick had she gone shopping alone, but still, she needed the others’ input, needing to see if this really was the perfect dress. When she went out of the dressing room to show Azelma, Musichetta, and Cosette, their jaws all dropped in tandem.

“ _Yes_ ,” Azelma declared without hesitation.

Cosette’s entire face lit up as she squealed, “Eppy, this is it!”

Éponine’s eyes lit up, as did her entire face, hopeful. “Really?”

“Yes, definitely,” Musichetta confirmed, feeling tears beginning to sting her eyes at the sight of one of her best friends in the dress. “It’s perfect.”

Éponine felt like she could cry, having finally found the perfect dress, and she turned back to Anya with a watery smile on her face. “This is the one.”

* * *

“ _No_.”

“Are you seriously thinking about getting _married_ in that _monstrosity_?!”

“What are you, _straight_?”

“I know I have bad taste, but even I can tell that that’s terrible.”

“We’re all going to be wearing matching tuxes, right? There’s no fucking way I’m wearing that. It’s atrocious.”

Enjolras groaned and stepped back into the dressing room after the cutting remarks he had received from the other men, ready to take off this tux and start all over again. This was the twenty-second one he had tried on and the others still weren’t satisfied, frequently insulting his choices and telling him to try on another one. He was beginning to wonder if they were just pulling his leg, trying to see which one of them could push him to his breaking point, as he pulled off this tux to put on another one. Then again, he _had_ chosen to try on a tux in a hideous shade of vomit-green, so he supposed the others’ reactions were more than justified. They didn’t have to be so _mean_ about it, though.

His previous choices had been a whole variety of velvet, wool, satin, and God knows what else, the colours ranging from firetruck red to midnight blue. They had all been rejected by the others, though in hindsight, Enjolras supposed his choices so far have been… questionable, to say the least, so he was determined to stick to the sensible-looking clothes Combeferre had helped him pick out. This particular tuxedo was made of pitch-black wool with silk-satin peak lapels and silk-covered buttons along with a satin leg stripe, a wine-red vest underneath along with a matching bowtie. He liked how he looked in this one—now if only the others would approve of it.

Holding his breath in anticipation, he stepped out of the dressing room.

To his shock, everyone else’s mouths fell open, almost simultaneously.

“ _F_ _inally_ , something that isn’t fucking grotesque.” Bahorel clicked his tongue before his contemplative frown morphed into a grin and he nodded. “That’s it.”

Enjolras’ blue eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep,” Feuilly piped up. “We really can’t argue against this one. It suits you.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Enjolras huffed, feeling as if a massive weight had been lifted off his shoulders at _finally_ finding the right tux, looking back at himself in the mirror to make sure it really did look okay. It looked more than okay, actually—it was perfect. This was the one.

After placing the order, making a deposit, and scheduling his first fitting, Enjolras was all too glad to get out of that stuffy area of the boutique and meet Éponine and the other women back in the lobby. His entire face lit up upon seeing Éponine again, immediately making his way over to her as she grinned the moment her eyes found his. She linked her arm with his as the others traipsed out of the boutique and into the snow, the two of them close behind.

“Did you find a dress?” Enjolras asked quietly once they had parted ways with the others, bidding them goodbye. Snow was lazily drifting down towards the ground, falling sporadically and dusting Éponine’s brown newsboy cap white as they walked towards the subway together, arm in arm.

Éponine looked up to smile mysteriously at him. “Yep.”

She said nothing else on the matter, the two of them walking down the steps and descending onto the subway platform to stand there, waiting for their train to come by. “We’ll probably have a warmer autumn season, with this snowstorm we just got this morning,” Éponine mused as she swayed slightly from side to side, humming to herself.

“Well, that’s good, right? We won’t be too chilly on our wedding day.” Enjolras unlinked his arm from hers to put it around her shoulders, pulling her close and turning his head to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Less than eight months to go, my love.”

“Still feels like such a long time,” Éponine mumbled, laying her head on his shoulder as their train arrived, zooming past and screeching to a halt. “I just wanna marry you already.”

“So do I,” Enjolras murmured in reply as the train doors slid open and people began pouring out before they could step inside, “but I promise we’ll be getting married before we know it. Patience, ’Ponine.”

Once they had found seats near the end of their train car, Éponine slipped her hand into his and laced their fingers together, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’m going to be Mrs. Enjolras,” she giddily thought out loud, laying her head on his shoulder once again.

“You’re taking my name?” Enjolras asked, hints of surprise showing through in his voice.

“Of course I am.” Éponine lifted her head briefly to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve wanted to get rid of the name Thénardier for a long time now. This is literally the perfect opportunity.”

They spent the rest of the train ride in comfortable silence, the sun having gone down by the time they got home. The lights in their apartment were on, alerting them that Angela and Victoire had come back from their day out, and once Éponine and Enjolras had trudged up the steps and opened the door, Victoire came running towards them as fast as she could, launching herself into Éponine’s arms and nearly knocking the young woman off her feet. “Mommy!”

Éponine steadied herself, holding Victoire in her arms and laughing as the little girl carefully brushed some melting snow off her mother’s shoulders. “Hi, Peanut! How was your day with Nana?”

Victoire babbled excitedly in response as Éponine took off her cap and kicked her boots off, waiting until Enjolras had taken off his boots and his coat before passing Victoire to him so she could do the same with her own coat. Angela approached them from the living room, a little smile on her face as Éponine took her coat off and hung it up, leaving her in just one of Enjolras’ hoodies, skinny jeans, and fuzzy socks.

“How did everything go? Did you find a dress, Éponine?” Angela asked in interest as they walked back into the living room together, Victoire tugging on Enjolras’ curls and laughing to herself as he restrained himself from grimacing.

“Yes, I did,” Éponine replied happily, sitting down on the sofa as Enjolras sat down beside her with Victoire in his lap, Angela taking a seat in a nearby armchair. “Signed the contract and put down a deposit and everything. The boutique says my dress will arrive in sixteen weeks and they’ll call me when it comes in.”

“Oh, that’s good!” Angela beamed, clapping her hands together. “What about you, Gabriel?” she asked, turning her attention to her son, who was rather occupied at the moment with trying to pry Victoire off of him, her chubby fingers tangled in his hair.

“I found a tuxedo,” Enjolras told his mother. “I made a deposit and scheduled my first fitting.” Wincing when Victoire’s fingers grasped his hair a little too tightly for his liking, he told Angela, “Thanks for taking care of Victoire for the day, Mother. We really appreciate it.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” Angela assured him and Éponine. “I love spending time with my granddaughter.” Standing up, she announced, “Well, I guess I’ll get going, then! Call me whenever you need me, okay? Anytime at all.”

“Sure thing,” Éponine replied as Angela took her coat off the hanger and pulled it on before she exited the apartment with one final goodbye, leaving the little family alone. Victoire had finally stopped pulling at Enjolras’ hair, simply contenting herself to curl up in her father’s lap and coo softly. Éponine thought it almost sounded like the little girl was singing.

“So what kind of music do you want at the wedding?” Éponine questioned. Enjolras looked up at her; up until that point, he had been gazing down at Victoire, gently bouncing her up and down in his lap and stroking her golden hair as she curled up in his arms. When he gave his fiancée a questioning look, Éponine explained, “I figured we should start planning it out. Make a playlist and sh—” She quickly cut herself off, remembering that Victoire was right there, still very much awake (though it seemed she would be falling asleep soon). Recovering, Éponine continued, “Anyway, we should probably decide on what the song for our first dance is going to be at one point.”

“I don’t really want the reception to be a dance party, but that’s all I know,” Enjolras replied, uncertain. “I have no idea what the music should be. Should we leave it up to Jehan?”

Éponine shrugged noncommittally. “He already gave me a whole playlist of songs to choose from for our first dance, let’s start with that. I don’t want the reception to be a dance party either.”

Victoire let out a huge yawn, one that could rival those of Toby the Yorkie, and she reached towards Éponine. “Mommy…”

Éponine lifted Victoire out of Enjolras’ lap and into her own, holding the little girl in her arms as her eyelids began to droop. “Mommy, Mommy,” Victoire mumbled as Éponine gently rocked her back and forth the way she used to do when Victoire was an infant.

“What is it, Vicky?” Éponine asked lightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter’s forehead.

Victoire said nothing, beginning to be lulled to sleep as Éponine rocked her back and forth, eyelids drooping. Éponine scooted closer to Enjolras, curling into him and laying her head on his shoulder as Victoire slowly fell asleep in her arms. Éponine smiled when she felt Enjolras’ lips brush the top of her head as he put an arm around her, the two of them just sitting there on the living room sofa together with their daughter.

Éponine began to softly sing to Victoire as the toddler began to nod off, her little eyelids growing heavier by the moment. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Éponine softly singing “Here Comes the Sun” to their daughter, gently rocking her to sleep, and he pressed another kiss to the top of Éponine’s head. “I love you,” he murmured, eliciting a little smile from her.

She paused mid-song to whisper in response, “I love you, too.”

After a while, Victoire was fully asleep, and Enjolras picked her up out of Éponine’s lap as he stood up. “I’ll go put her to bed,” he told her, his voice soft so not to wake up their daughter. Éponine nodded, staying seated on the sofa and pulling out her phone to scroll through the seemingly endless playlist of first-dance songs Jehan had made for her on Spotify, her brow furrowing at the sheer amount of songs she and Enjolras were expected to choose from. Plugging her earbuds in, she put the playlist on shuffle, pursing her lips as she began to listen to the first song that came up. Enjolras returned shortly after to find Éponine sitting cross-legged on the sofa, a contemplative look on her face with earbuds plugged into her ears.

Going over to sit down next to her, he motioned for her to take one earbud out. When she did so, Enjolras asked quietly, “What are you listening to?”

Éponine handed him the earbud she had taken out so they could sit together and listen. “The playlist Jehan made for us. Just so we can get ideas of what we like. Who knows? Maybe we’ll agree on a song.”

Enjolras listened along with her, though his eyes widened in shock at the sight of how many songs had been put on that playlist. “Are we really expected to choose from over _three hundred_ songs?” he asked in alarm, looking at Éponine.

“’Jolras, calm down, we still have a little over seven months to choose,” Éponine reassured him, pressing a kiss to her fiancé’s cheek. “We’ll be fine. We’ll find a song we both love and that’ll be our song.”

Enjolras smiled at her words as she laid her head on his shoulder, curling into him and feeling his arm snake around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as they both listened to “From This Moment On”, murmuring nearly inaudibly to her, “I love you, ’Ponine. So much.”

“I love you so much too,” Éponine replied softly.

The two of them didn’t end up getting through most of the playlist, falling asleep together on the sofa five songs in.


	6. Chapter VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in exchange for all the lovely birthday wishes i’ve received today (thank you all so much, by the way!!) here’s another update!! note: i won’t be posting this chapter on tumblr until i get back home from vacation and have my laptop with me, so bear with me

* * *

“What about this one?”

Éponine held out a scarlet one-shoulder bridesmaid dress with a sweetheart neckline, a cinched waist, and a flowing chiffon skirt. She, Cosette, Musichetta, and Azelma were back at the wedding boutique, though this time they were on the fourth floor, where the bridesmaid dresses were. Anya, bless her soul, was once again with them to offer input, though Éponine still got the final say over what her bridesmaids were to be wearing. The bridesmaids themselves had to approve, though—they didn’t want to look like monstrosities on two of their best friends’ wedding day.

“We should probably try it on,” Cosette suggested, getting up.

Once the three women were standing before Éponine, wearing the dresses Éponine had suggested, the brunette frowned. They looked nice, sure, but they weren’t _perfect_.

“Let’s try on another one,” Éponine announced. “I don’t think these are fit for an autumn wedding.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so either,” Musichetta agreed. Éponine and Anya went looking for other dresses for the bridesmaids to try on, Éponine picking out several different dresses in various shades of red and hoping one of them would end up being the one Cosette, Musichetta, and Azelma would all want to go with.

The next dress was shorter than the previous one—it was a chiffon high-low dress in the same shade of scarlet, strapless and with a sweetheart neckline as well as a beaded belt. Azelma seemed to like it, but Cosette and Musichetta both deemed it unfit for an autumn wedding, taking the weather and the outdoor environment for the wedding into consideration.

They tried on another of the dresses Éponine had picked out, a cherry-red off-the-shoulder dress, but she quickly found that they all disliked the mermaid cut of that particular dress and Éponine requested for Anya to take away the mermaid dresses she had previously picked out, leaving about five left to choose from.

This one looked far nicer than the ones before—it was still in a bright shade of scarlet with a flowing chiffon skirt, though it had a boat neck and long sleeves of lace as well as a cinched waist. Cosette twirled around a couple of times in the dress while Musichetta looked contemplative, Azelma looking down at the skirt and absently swishing it about her legs.

“I like this one, but the colour is a little too bright for an autumn wedding,” Musichetta told Éponine at last, looking back up to meet the brunette’s eyes. “Maybe a dress similar to this one, but in a darker shade of red?”

“Here you go!” Anya piped up cheerfully, handing Musichetta a similar-looking dress but in a deep shade of wine red. Éponine observed them both—the resemblance between Musichetta and Anya was rather unnerving, they looked so alike.

Anya handed dresses identical to the one she had given Musichetta to Cosette and Azelma, and the three of them disappeared into the dressing rooms once again as Éponine stood there anxiously, biting her lip and tapping her foot as she absent-mindedly toyed with the heart-shaped locket resting against her chest, opening it once to look at the picture of her, Enjolras, and Victoire from two Christmases ago inside. She was thinking about changing the photograph inside her locket when Cosette, Musichetta, and Azelma reappeared before her, and Éponine closed her locket and looked up.

The dresses were absolutely gorgeous—wine red with boat necklines as well as lace sleeves that extended just a little bit past the elbows, with belts at the cinched waists that tied into a bow at the back and floor-length, flowing chiffon skirts. Éponine nodded immediately, a huge grin spreading across her face at the thought of how nicely the colour went with the autumn theme of the wedding.

“This one,” she declared. “It’s perfect. What do you guys think?”

“Definitely,” Azelma replied, grinning back at her sister.

“We’ll take these!” Cosette bounced up and down, a joyful smile on her face as she turned to Anya.

After getting the dresses ordered and sized, the four of them went on their way to the nearest McDonald’s, Éponine desperate to get her hands on some McNuggets after two excruciating hours of trying to decide between bridesmaid dresses. It was the middle of May, the wedding getting closer with each passing day, and Éponine was so excited she felt like she could burst. Victoire’s second birthday was to be in a little over a month and she was excited for that as well—she and Enjolras were planning on taking a week off from this hectic planning period to take Victoire to Disney World, especially since she would get in free due to being under three years old.

The past two months had been rather stressful, what with coming up with a wedding registry, reserving a block of hotel rooms for the guests that were to be coming in from out of town, selecting and purchasing invitations, finally sending out save-the-date cards, booking a florist, and whatnot. The two of them had decided on a first-dance song sometime ago as well as a piano arrangement of “A Thousand Years, Pt. 2” for Éponine to walk down the aisle to, and Enjolras had brought up possibly engraving something into their wedding rings when he mentioned a couple of days prior how they should go search for some soon, so she was planning on going with him to look for some at some point within the next couple of weeks and let Grantaire take care of Victoire for the day.

“How do you feel, Eppy?” Cosette’s voice brought Éponine back to earth and the brunette blinked, looking at the blonde as she chewed on a McNugget. When Éponine gave her a questioning look, Cosette clarified, “You’re getting married in five months!”

Éponine couldn’t help but smile at the reminder; with every passing day, she grew more impatient, wishing she could marry Enjolras right at that moment. Only five more months left of being Miss Éponine Thénardier, and then on October seventh, she’ll be Mrs. Éponine _Enjolras_.

“I’m excited,” she replied frankly, stealing one of Azelma’s fries and taking a bite out of it as the redhead opened her mouth in silent protest. “But honestly, I could use a break from all this planning. ’Jolras and I are going to take Vicky to Disney World for a week for her birthday next month.”

“Aww,” Musichetta cooed, a goofy little grin on her face. “You three with your kids. Should I have some?”

Azelma shrugged. “Up to you,” she told Musichetta. “They’re a massive burden, though. It’s rewarding, yeah, but still a burden.”

“I know Bossuet wants a kid at some point,” Musichetta mused, mostly just thinking out loud. “He says he doesn’t want the kid to inherit his bad luck, though, he once said he’d much rather have Joly impregnate me. Joly and I are still on the fence about having kids.”

“The kid would have three parents, I think that would make taking care of the kid a little bit easier.” Éponine stuffed an entire McNugget into her mouth, chewing on it. “You could also adopt, if you want. Pregnancy is hell, let me tell you that.”

Musichetta said nothing else on the matter, continuing to take bites out of her burger and looking out the window at the people passing by. Éponine thought back to everything she and Enjolras had done in the past couple of months, arranging transportation, composing a timeline for the big day, as well as selecting a cake—they had decided on a three-tier red velvet cake, with white frosting and flower decorations. They had decided to skip the rehearsal dinner and the bridal shower, having chosen to use the time in which they would have had them to take their daughter to Disney World.

Éponine thought about going shopping for shoes soon to wear with her wedding dress so she could decide on how long the hem should be when getting the dress altered, humming softly to herself as she snarfed down her fries. She knew she definitely wasn’t going to wear high heels with her dress—there was no fucking way she was putting herself through that kind of torture on what was going to be one of the happiest days of her life. Kitten heels, perhaps? She had been looking at images of possible shoes for the wedding and she liked how kitten heels looked, sometimes wearing practical pairs of them to work.

She was debating between who to take when going shopping for shoes, though—three people would really be too much. She was leaning towards asking Cosette to accompany her, especially since the blonde was married already and would know the most about these kinds of things.

After they had finished their lunch, they went on their way to Times Square to go see the matinee show of _Waitress_ , having bought tickets a month prior so going bridesmaid-dress shopping could double as a girls’ day out. It had been a long time since they had one of these, Éponine thought as she took her seat between Azelma and Cosette in the mezzanine; it was a nice little break, she thought, as the curtain rose.

The four of them went on their way to the Bronx Zoo once the show was over; the only thing Éponine was able to think about as they looked at the monkeys was when she and Enjolras came here once with Victoire in tow, taking her to see the lions and the tigers, and how the little girl had been laughing and squealing happily all day as they went about the exhibits, pointing out different animals to her.

It was fifteen minutes past seven o’clock by the time Éponine arrived at home after she, Cosette, Musichetta, and Azelma had gone to grab dinner at Applebee’s, and much to her confusion, Enjolras and Victoire were nowhere to be found. Once she had taken off her shoes, Éponine made her way back to her and Enjolras’ room, finding Enjolras and Victoire on the bed covered in the duvet from the waist down, Victoire sitting in Enjolras’ lap and clutching her Elmo doll as he read aloud to her in a soft voice, that voice that was meant just for Victoire, as well as putting on different voices for the characters.

Éponine stopped short in the doorway, the corners of her mouth tilting up in the smallest smile as she watched her fiancé reading Harry Potter to their daughter. The two of them didn’t seem to have noticed Éponine standing there, Enjolras continuing to read aloud from the heavy illustrated version of _Philosopher’s Stone_ that he and Éponine had bought as Victoire stared down at the page, transfixed by the illustrations. Éponine couldn’t help but smile at the sight, her heart bursting at how this was her reality now—she had someone she could depend on who loved her unconditionally and they had the most perfect daughter, though she was just a tad bit biased.

It wasn’t until Enjolras and Victoire were halfway through chapter three when Victoire looked up to see Éponine standing there in the doorway, and a huge smile lit up Victoire’s face—Éponine saw Enjolras’ smile each time Victoire beamed at her like that, dimples in her cheeks. “Mommy!”

Enjolras looked up and smiled at the sight of her, his _fiancée_ , and he cocked his head slightly to beckon her over to them, closing the book and setting it aside on the nightstand. Éponine walked over to climb onto the bed and crawl under the covers to join them before taking Victoire into her arms, saying brightly, “Hi, Peanut! Did you have a good day with Daddy?”

Victoire nodded in response, looking up at Éponine through those big brown eyes as she babbled endlessly to her, seemingly describing what she and Enjolras had done that day. Éponine laughed and exchanged looks with Enjolras, stroking Victoire’s hair as she scooted closer to Enjolras. “What did you two do while I was gone?” she asked softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips in greeting, Victoire still chattering away mostly incomprehensibly with a few intelligible words scattered throughout her sentences here and there.

“Grantaire and Jehan invited us out to have a picnic with them and Toby in Central Park,” Enjolras responded quietly. “They asked me a lot about the wedding. Jehan offered to help me write my vows.”

Éponine made a face, alarmed. “God, no, don’t let him do that,” she told him.

“I wasn’t planning on doing so,” Enjolras assured her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “The wedding ceremony would never end if I did. I’m writing them myself.”

“They better be good,” Éponine teased lightly just when Victoire grabbed at her shirt and tugged on it slightly, bringing Éponine’s attention back to her. “What is it, Vicky?”

“Sleepy,” she mumbled.

“Okay, do you want Mommy or Daddy to tuck you in?” Éponine asked.

Victoire considered it for a moment before she smiled up at Éponine. “Mommy!”

Éponine laughed and scooped Victoire up in her arms, scooting over to slide off the bed. “Okay, Peanut, let’s get you to bed. Say night-night to Daddy.”

Victoire gave Enjolras a big, albeit sleepy, smile, waving at him from her spot in Éponine’s arms. “Night-night, Daddy!”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile as Victoire waved at him, replying, “Good night, Peanut.”

He watched as Éponine carried Victoire out of their room, on their way to Victoire’s bedroom, and he waited patiently for Éponine to return, sitting there in bed and pulling out his phone to look at potential wedding rings. He was seriously considering having something engraved on the inside of their rings, wondering what they could possibly have engraved just as Éponine returned and closed the door behind her, trudging over to crawl into bed and under the covers with him.

“Whatcha looking at?” Éponine mumbled, curling into him and laying her head on his chest as they lay down in bed together.

“When do you think we should go looking for the wedding rings?” Enjolras asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I don’t know, sometime this week? Maybe in two weeks?” Éponine suggested, phrasing it more as a question. “What kind of ring do you want?”

“I’ve looked at pictures online, I think platinum rings look really nice,” Enjolras replied. “They’re really durable, too. I think we should get a matching set.”

“Yeah, no shit, of course we will.” Éponine brought her head up to kiss his cheek. “I think we should get platinum, if they’re durable like you said.”

“They are.” Enjolras reached over to place his phone back on the nightstand, putting his arms around Éponine’s slender body. “Should we get something engraved on the inside?”

Éponine lifted her head up to meet his eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, our wedding date?” Enjolras suggested tentatively. “Maybe our initials or a quote or something?”

“I like the idea of having a quote,” Éponine murmured. “What would it be, though?”

“I don’t want it to be generic,” Enjolras mumbled. “‘I’m always with you’?”

Éponine scrunched up her face contemplatively. “Nah, that’s kind of generic. What about ‘ _mon coeur est a vous_ ’? It sounds pretty.”

“‘You have my heart’?” Enjolras translated, mostly for himself. “Pretty, yes, but not quite what I’m thinking of.”

“‘Non-refundable’?” Éponine suggested, laughing to herself at the thought.

Enjolras chuckled and stroked her hair. “No.”

“Suit yourself.”

After bouncing ideas back and forth between themselves, Éponine’s entire face lit up and she lifted her head up to meet his eyes. “I’ve got it! What do you think about ‘my love, my light, my everything’?”

“Did you just come up with that?” Enjolras questioned, unable to keep himself from smiling adoringly as he gazed into her eyes. God, he loved this woman.

“I did, yeah.” Éponine looked quite proud of herself for that, asking, “What do you think?”

Enjolras leaned in to close the gap between them, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. Once he pulled away, he murmured, “It’s perfect.”

Éponine beamed up at him, reaching up to ruffle his golden curls. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Enjolras responded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Should we get some sleep now? We can start going on our search for the rings two weeks from now, if you can.”

“Yeah, I’m free in two weeks,” Éponine assured him, laying her head on his chest once again and curling into him as he put his arms around her. “Who should look after Vicky?”

“I’m sure Grantaire and Jehan would be more than happy to,” Enjolras replied. “Should we call them in the morning to ask them if they’re free then?”

“Yeah, let’s do that. I want to sleep now,” Éponine mumbled, beginning to nod off. “Good night, ’Jolras. I love you.”

Enjolras kissed the top of her head. “Good night, ’Ponine. I love you, too.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [bridesmaid dress](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/60/6c/55/606c55a0ac16cafc3be94284776e717d--wine-bridesmaid-dresses-wedding-bridesmaids.jpg)
> 
> we’re halfway through this lil sequel fic, folks!! also, fun fact, i came up with what enjonine are going to engrave in their wedding rings based off what i sometimes tag aaron tveit posts on tumblr with, so really, the only reason we have “my love, my light, my everything” in this fic is because of my endless thirst for tveit lmao


	7. Chapter VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise for the lack of an update for my other fic runaways, chapter three of it is still in the works, so here’s an update of lwgyh instead!!

* * *

“’Jolras. Enjolras, look! Look at these ones!”

Enjolras went over to where Éponine was standing, his eyes following her gaze to the matching set of wedding bands she was looking at. They were in the third jewellery store they had visited that day, having left Victoire with Grantaire and Jehan and Toby just that morning, and though they still wanted platinum rings, they could stand to be flexible, especially with the rings Éponine was pointing at right now—they were platinum and rose gold, with diamonds embellishing one of the two rings. Enjolras looked over the rings with interest, having read about how gold was the easiest to engrave on by hand, whereas platinum and silver usually had to be done by machines.

“They’re so pretty,” Éponine murmured, running her hands along the top of the glass case. “What do you think?”

Enjolras looked at the rings in contemplation, mulling things over. “Maybe we should look at other pairs first before deciding. We’ve got all day, don’t we?”

He took her hand in his and they went to another of the glass cases containing rings, Enjolras’ eyes drifting to a pair of platinum wedding bands inlaid with a gold plating, diamonds embedded into one of the rings. “What do you think of those?” Enjolras suggested, pointing.

Éponine’s eyes went wide upon seeing the rings Enjolras was suggesting they get, letting out a little “ooooh” of fascination. “I like those! Should we get them or keep looking?”

“We should probably keep looking first, but we can go back to them later. That okay with you?” Enjolras bit his lip as he looked down at his fiancée, anxious for her approval.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Éponine grinned up at him, standing on tiptoe and reaching upwards to ruffle his golden curls. “There are still plenty of rings we can look at.”

They had had a little argument that morning about one particular set of wedding rings at the first jewellery store they had gone to—though Enjolras had loved them, Éponine was firmly against the idea of getting them, resulting in a little spat and half an hour of the pair giving each other the silent treatment before they went on a Starbucks run, during which they managed to sort things out the way twenty-six-year-old adults such as them should. Their earlier argument had nearly been forgotten by the time they approached another glass case in that third jewellery store, Éponine’s jaw dropping at a gorgeous pair of platinum wedding bands with thin central bands of rose-gold, nine round and three baguette-cut diamonds embedded into one of the rings.

“Do you think these would be good for engraving?” Éponine questioned, looking up at Enjolras as he inspected the rings she was speaking of with an unreadable look on his face. After a while, he shrugged.

“I think so,” he said, rather uncertain. “They look really nice. Should we put them on the list?”

Éponine smiled up at him, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Yeah.”

Enjolras had made mental notes throughout the day of all the wedding ring sets they were seriously considering getting, thinking of the four pairs they had previously mutually agreed on. Moving on to the next set that caught their eye, he thought back to all they had done to prepare for their wedding, itching to get it all done with and finally marry her.

He pointed out a pair of simple platinum rings, both of them with central striations and one ring with sixteen round diamonds embedded into the ring at staggered intervals. Éponine made sure to make note of those, finding that she liked how they looked but they still weren’t making any final decisions just yet, linking her arm through Enjolras’ as they moved along, occasionally observing the other people present in that little jewellery shop. The next pair was one Éponine pointed out, white gold with rose-gold sides and a solitaire diamond embellishing one of the rings, and though they weren’t platinum like they wished to get, they looked nice enough that Éponine made mental note of those as well as Enjolras, so that made six pairs of wedding rings so far to choose from.

“’Ponine, what do you think of those?” At the next glass case containing numerous pairs of wedding rings, Enjolras pointed at one particular set, matte-finish platinum with wide central bands, diamonds embedded into the central band of one of the two, encircling the ring. They were absolutely _gorgeous_ , and Éponine could tell that they’d be just perfect for engraving, nodding immediately.

“Should we get those?” she asked, looking up at her fiancé with a raised eyebrow.

“I think we should,” he replied, smiling down at her as she let out a delighted little squeal.

“It’s settled, then!” Éponine declared happily, bouncing up and down in her Converse sneakers. “Should we order them?”

Enjolras nodded, grinning down at her. “We’ll need to get them fitted, too.”

“Well, we can do that right now, can’t we?” If she was remembering things right from what she had researched online, they should get their rings fitted when they were calm and their body temperature was normal. She figured that since it was early in the afternoon, now would be a good time to have their ring fittings and ask to have them engraved.

Enjolras nodded. “I suppose we should, yes.”

After getting the rings fitted and ordering to have them engraved, Enjolras triple-checking the spelling of the phrase Éponine had come up with and Éponine picking out the font, they went on their way to Central Park, having texted Grantaire and Jehan to meet them there with Victoire and Toby. Éponine’s hand slipping into Enjolras’, the two of them went on their way to take the subway to Central Park, arms swinging.

On the way, Éponine thought about what else they had achieved in the past two weeks—she had booked hair and makeup artists after going to several different appointments with several different artists with Cosette to offer input as well as bought shoes, planning on breaking them in soon and bringing them to her first fitting, which was to be at the end of July after she and Enjolras took off for Florida with Victoire for the toddler’s second birthday. Éponine and Enjolras had decided to just go with the playlist of love songs Jehan had compiled for them, the songs ranging from slow to moderately paced—Éponine was thankful that Jehan wasn’t too into dance-party love songs either—and Éponine was planning on going shopping for undergarments, keeping in mind how her dress was backless and she would have to buy a backless, strapless bra with silicone cups.

She quite liked the shoes Cosette had helped her pick out—they were silver satin kitten heels with diamanté clasps over gatherings of ruched fabric, simple yet elegant. They were sure to go well with her dress, though one probably wouldn’t even be able to see the shoes unless she lifted up her skirt, and she was planning on breaking them in at some point before her first fitting. Cosette had warned her that she was going to look more like a pincushion than a bride during that first fitting since the major alterations had to be made then, but Éponine wasn’t going to let that get to her.

She was in a chipper mood by the time she and Enjolras reached Central Park, practically skipping as they made their way to the Central Park Mall, where they were to meet up with Grantaire, Jehan, Victoire, and Toby the Yorkie. Sure enough, the four of them were looking at the trees in the promenade, Victoire in Jehan’s arms and Toby in Grantaire’s, much to Éponine’s amusement; Victoire usually preferred being held by Grantaire out of all the Amis. When Victoire turned her head at just the right moment and caught sight of her parents, her little face lit up and she squealed, “Mommy! Daddy!”

Grantaire turned around and grinned at them both as the couple approached them, bright smiles on their faces, and Jehan turned as well, putting Victoire down on the ground so she could rush towards Enjolras and throw herself into his arms, giggling madly when Enjolras scooped her up without a hitch and tickled her sides in greeting. “No, Daddy! Stop!” she cried through her giggles, and Enjolras obliged, simply holding her in his arms as Jehan and Grantaire approached them, Toby now on the ground with his leash looped around Grantaire’s wrist.

“How did ring shopping go?” Jehan asked curiously, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and leaning forward just slightly. Éponine didn’t fail to notice the stupid goofy grin on Grantaire’s face and how he and Jehan were holding hands, fingers interlocked, and she smirked knowingly when she caught Grantaire’s eye, barely able to resist laughing out loud when his cheeks flushed pink.

“It went well!” Éponine replied brightly. “We found the rings we wanted and got them sized. We’re also getting something engraved in them.”

“Ooh, what is it?” Grantaire questioned.

“That’s between us,” Enjolras responded as Victoire reached up to run her fingers through his hair, grabbing a clump of golden curls in her hand and laughing at the look on her father’s face when she did so.

“If you say so, chief.” Grantaire didn’t miss a beat, grinning at them both as Toby barked at them from his spot on the ground beside his dad.

“How was your day, Peanut? Did Uncle R and Uncle Jehan treat you well?” Enjolras asked Victoire, pressing a kiss to her forehead and making her giggle as she nodded yes.

“What did you two do with our baby girl?” Éponine asked, trying not to eye Jehan and Grantaire’s clasped hands too obviously as she turned her attention to them.

“We took her to the aquarium,” Grantaire replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Had to leave Toby with Rachelle for some time for that.”

Éponine turned back to Enjolras and Victoire just as Victoire turned her head to look at her mother, a bright smile on her face. “Did you have fun, Vicky?” Éponine asked, ruffling her daughter’s wavy golden hair. Victoire nodded yes once again, beaming at her mother and making Éponine laugh.

“We’ll take her now,” Enjolras told Grantaire and Jehan, giving them both a grateful little smile as Victoire played with his golden curls. “Thank you so much for looking after her.”

“Oh, it was no problem,” Grantaire replied airily, nonchalant. “I’m her favourite uncle.”

Jehan let out a little outraged gasp, saying indignantly, “I beg to differ!”

“No, R’s right,” Éponine told Jehan, an apologetic smile on her face. “Vicky’s always preferred him out of all of you.”

“Ha!” Grantaire stuck his tongue out at a pouty Jehan, a smug smirk on his face. “Suck on that!”

“Watch it.” Enjolras stole a glance at Victoire in his arms; the little girl didn’t seem to have heard Grantaire’s words, but even still, he didn’t want her to pick up such phrases at this age. “Victoire’s learning more and more words now, she’ll start saying that all over. Let’s not.”

“You gotta admit it’d be effing hilarious, though,” Grantaire told Enjolras, making sure not to accidentally swear around the almost two-year-old girl currently in the golden-haired man’s arms.

Enjolras looked completely unamused, giving Grantaire a look. “No, it wouldn’t.”

“Aww, you’re no fun.” Grantaire screwed up his face as Jehan lightly smacked him in the arm to shut him up. “Anyway, we’ll see you guys around! I’m always available if you need anyone to take care of Vicky.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Éponine called as Grantaire and Jehan began to go on their way, hands still clasped tight and arms swinging as they walked out of sight. Éponine watched them disappear behind some trees before she turned back to Enjolras and Victoire, smiling softly at the sight of Enjolras talking quietly to Victoire, uncharacteristically openly cheerful.

After some time, Enjolras turned back to Éponine as Victoire lightly tugged at his hair. “Where should we go now?”

Éponine shrugged. “I don’t know, go home? I was thinking we could bake something for Vicky. Snickerdoodles, maybe?” Almost all of Victoire’s teeth had come in at this point and she had become a big fan of Feuilly’s snickerdoodles, which had led to Enjolras managing to talk Feuilly into giving them the recipe so they could learn how to make some for Victoire in their own time.

“What do you think, Victoire?” Enjolras tilted his head slightly as he looked at Victoire with an expectant look. “Mommy and Daddy are going to make you some snickerdoodles, what do you think of that?”

A huge smile erupted across Victoire’s face at the mere mention of snickerdoodles and she nodded vigorously, evoking laughter from both her parents. “Let’s go, then!” Éponine said brightly.

“Do you want to walk?” Enjolras asked the little girl, and after contemplating it for a while, Victoire nodded with the most adorable dimpled smile on her face. He chuckled and gently, carefully put her down on the ground, taking one of her hands as Éponine took the other, and off they went, strolling through the promenade and out of Central Park to make their way to the subway.

An hour and a half later, the three of them were in the kitchen of their apartment, Éponine and Enjolras absolutely covered in flour and Victoire sitting cross-legged on the floor, throwing a tantrum and having a screaming fit. Éponine looked over to Enjolras desperately, a despairing look in her eyes as Victoire’s piercing screams shook the apartment and were sure to disturb the neighbours; the two of them had prevented her from climbing up onto the kitchen counter just a half an hour earlier and that alone had been enough to send Victoire into a rage, the little girl throwing a huge tantrum and screaming and crying from her spot on the floor as Éponine and Enjolras looked at each other helplessly, trying to figure out how to calm down their screaming daughter. She had gone quiet for some time when they put the cookies in the oven, but once the oven door was closed, she started screaming at the top of her lungs once again, angry tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

“Maybe you could try picking her up?” Éponine suggested, biting her lip as she brushed some flour off her apron and onto the floor. “You’re so much better at handling these kinds of things than I am.”

Enjolras attempted to do just that, stooping down to pick Victoire up before she smacked his arms away, yelling out, “NO!”

“Maybe she’s tired?” Enjolras tried, looking helplessly between his fiancée and their daughter. “She throws a fit sometimes when all she wants is a nap.”

“It’s too late in the afternoon for a nap unless we want her waking up at two in the morning!” Éponine protested, trying to rid herself of all the flour that had gotten onto her apron and clothes during their baking mishaps. The cookies were now finally in the oven and they were all just waiting for their cookies to finish baking, and an idea popped into Éponine’s head just then.

Stooping down, she said gently, “Vicky. Peanut.” When Victoire wouldn’t respond, Éponine sighed and rubbed her temple, saying, “Victoire Gabrielle Enjolras.”

That caught her attention. She stopped screaming, though her eyes filled with tears upon hearing Éponine saying her full name before the young woman assured her gently, “You’re not in trouble, baby. Can you tell Mommy and Daddy what you want? We want you to be happy.”

Victoire stuck her thumb in her mouth, and as Éponine expected, the toddler pointed a chubby finger at the oven door. “Cookie.”

“I know you want cookies, Peanut, but it’ll take some time for them to finish baking,” Éponine told Victoire patiently, reaching out to ruffle the little girl’s golden hair. “Only twenty more minutes, can we wait twenty minutes?”

Victoire took her thumb out of her mouth and wiped it off on her shirt, nodding rather tearfully. Éponine stood back up, pleased and pleasantly surprised by her own work as Victoire started reaching up towards her, prompting Éponine to bend back down and pick her up. Victoire scrunched up her face at all the flour that rubbed off on her clothes and Éponine laughed, turning to Enjolras and feeling her cheeks flush pink at the sight of how he was just smiling affectionately at them both.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked as Victoire played with her dark hair, fascinated by how the dark colour contrasted against her wavy golden locks, which had now grown to reach her chin.

Enjolras shrugged. “I love you.”

Éponine bit her lip and smiled, her cheeks burning as she replied softly, “I love you, too.”

“Mommy! Daddy!” The sound of their daughter’s voice turned their attention back to her, and they both looked at Victoire expectantly.

“What is it, Peanut?” Enjolras questioned.

“Do you want to watch a movie while we wait for the cookies to be done?” Éponine suggested, bouncing Victoire up and down.

The little girl thought about it and merely looked confused, crying out once again, “Daddy!”

Enjolras laughed, heading over to his fiancée and their daughter. “Come here, Victoire.”

Éponine carefully passed her over to Enjolras so Victoire would be in her father’s arms, a big smile on her face at last after that horrendous tantrum she had had earlier. “She likes you so much more than she likes me,” Éponine murmured as Victoire grabbed Enjolras’ face in her little hands and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, giggling.

“No, she likes you,” Enjolras reassured her. “I like to think she likes us both.”

“Whatever floats your boat, babe.” Éponine moved to put her arm around him as they both gazed intently at Victoire, who seemed to be lost in her own little world as she played with Enjolras’ hair. Éponine went behind him and stood on tiptoe to place her chin on his shoulder, murmuring, “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Enjolras turned his head to look at her as Victoire experimentally twirled a stray curl of his around her finger.

“If you had told me three years ago that we would get piss-drunk on your twenty-fourth birthday, end up sleeping together, and I’d end up pregnant with this little peanut here, and then we’d proceed to fall for each other at some point along the way and you’d propose a little over a year after Vicky was born, I would’ve said you had gone crazy,” Éponine told him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But here we are right now.”

“Well, life is unpredictable, isn’t it? As long as we’re with the right people, though, we’ll be fine. I know I’m with the right people for me, so I can take anything life decides it wants to throw at me.” Enjolras leaned forward to kiss Victoire’s forehead, making her giggle, before he turned back to Éponine. “I’m still trying to process it, honestly. A lot has changed.”

“You don’t say.” Enjolras could hear the smirk in Éponine’s voice and rolled his eyes, turning his head to capture her lips in a chaste kiss. She sighed against his lips, tenderly kissing him back before they broke apart, little smiles on their faces as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Do you want another kid?” Enjolras asked.

Éponine laughed. “Right now? No. I think we should wait until Vicky’s three or something. An almost two-year-old is enough of a handful right now.”

“That’s fair.” Enjolras turned back to look at Victoire, who was staring at the cookies through the oven door with a look of longing on her little face, and he asked gently, “Do you want cookies, Peanut?”

Victoire nodded, jutting out her bottom lip. “Mhmm.”

“Ten more minutes, baby,” Éponine told Victoire, walking around Enjolras to press a kiss to the top of Victoire’s head before she turned back to Enjolras. “I love you,” she murmured. “I love you both so much.”

“I love you, too,” Enjolras responded, a soft smile on his face. “So does Victoire.”

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon watching Disney movies in the living room and devouring the three batches of snickerdoodles they had made.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [wedding rings](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/1c/21/45/1c2145a23e287a2a10eef43d04c16eda.jpg), [those kitten heels i mentioned](http://www.catering-denver.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/womens-low-kitten-heel-bridal-wedding-white-satin-diamante-court-pertaining-to-kitten-heel-wedding-shoes-ivory.jpg)


	8. Chapter VIII

“How was Disney World?”

Éponine, Enjolras, and Victoire returned from the airport to find Grantaire there in their living room with Toby, apparently having broken in using the spare key Éponine had given him to clean things up a bit before the little family returned. Éponine and Enjolras were a bit more than a little unnerved at Grantaire’s unexpected presence while Victoire thought nothing of it, jumping out of Enjolras’ arms and running over to Grantaire, a bright smile on her face. “Unca R!”

“It was great!” Éponine replied cheerfully, taking off her ratty black Chucks and watching as Victoire climbed into Grantaire’s lap. “Vicky loved it, she got in free.”

“Unca R, look!” Victoire gleefully pointed at the Mickey Mouse ears on her head, beaming at Grantaire and making him laugh out loud at her adorable enthusiasm.

“You’re getting big, aren’t you?” Grantaire began to tickle Victoire’s sides, making her scream with laughter as she writhed in his arms, giggling madly and swatting at his arms.

“No! No no no no no, Unca R!” Victoire shrieked in between laughs, so Grantaire obliged, simply letting the two-year-old girl sit there in his lap as he looked at Éponine and Enjolras, Toby asleep on the rug before the sofa.

“How do you guys feel?” Grantaire questioned, looking back and forth between them—Éponine was donning a Star Wars T-shirt while Enjolras seemed to have been talked into wearing his Mickey Mouse ears all the way back, most likely by Victoire, since he had a chronic inability to say no to his daughter.

“Exhausted,” Enjolras replied frankly, beginning to lug the suitcases back to his and Éponine’s bedroom as she remained there in the living room, giving Grantaire a sheepish smile.

“We had a lot of fun, though,” Éponine assured him. “Took Vicky to meet Mickey and the rest of the gang. She was more interested in meeting Darth Vader, honestly.”

Grantaire pressed a hand to his heart, pretending to wipe away tears from his eyes. “I’m so proud.”

“I have pictures of her with Baymax too,” Éponine continued, going over to sit down beside Grantaire on the sofa. “She looked so tiny and adorable standing there in front of Baymax.”

“Mommy!” Victoire crawled out of Grantaire’s lap and into Éponine’s, beaming at her mother and making Éponine melt. Victoire’s golden hair just barely reached her shoulders now, though Éponine was considering taking her to get it trimmed if the little girl wanted to.

“What is it, Peanut?” Éponine asked, leaning in to kiss her daughter’s forehead just as Enjolras made a reappearance in the living room, this time free of Mickey Mouse ears.

Victoire spewed some nonsense words as Enjolras made his way over to them, sitting on Éponine’s other side and almost sandwiching her between him and Grantaire, Victoire in the middle of them all in Éponine’s lap. He laughed and ruffled the little girl’s golden hair, pressing a kiss to Éponine’s temple as Grantaire cooed exaggeratedly at the sight.

“You three are so cute, it’s kind of gross.” Grantaire reached over to ruffle Victoire’s hair as she turned her head to look at him, smiling happily.

“How are things with you and Jehan?” Éponine had never been the smoothest at changing the subject, but she desperately wanted to know. Victoire slid out of her lap and onto the floor to play with Toby, who had just awoken with a bark.

“That’s info for another time, my dearest Ep.” Grantaire tucked some hair behind her ear before she smacked his hand away. “You guys are getting married in what, three months? A little over three months, right? How do you feel?”

“We’re excited,” Éponine replied. “I have my first dress fitting at the end of the month, so there’s that too. I need to go look for underwear to wear with the dress.”

“Hey, Enjy?” Grantaire didn’t miss how Enjolras was just gazing at Éponine with a stupid lovesick look in his blue eyes the entire time, the corners of his mouth tilted up in a tiny smile. Grantaire waved his hand in the golden-haired man’s face to try to catch his attention. “Earth to Enjy!”

“Huh?” Enjolras blinked, snapping out of it as he glanced at Grantaire, bewildered.

“How do you feel? You’re marrying this smoking hot babe right here in three months,” Grantaire reminded him, gesturing to Éponine, who smirked.

She turned to Enjolras, grinning up at him. “I guess I am pretty smoking hot, yeah.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, amused. “Yes, you are, love. I can’t wait to marry you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, pretty boy.” Éponine couldn’t resist a smile as she leaned in to press her lips to her fiancé’s, Enjolras kissing her back the moment he felt her lips on his as Grantaire pretended to gag behind them.

“Get a room, you two,” he told them, resisting a snort when Éponine simply flipped him off in response and telling her, “Vicky might be watching, you never know. You wouldn’t want her flipping people off at the tender age of two, now, would you?”

Éponine broke away from Enjolras and turned her attention to Victoire, who was sitting on the floor playing with an irritated-looking Toby, and she resisted a laugh at the sight of Victoire babbling to the dog as she pulled him into her lap, lovingly stroking his fur. Laying her head on Enjolras’ shoulder, Éponine snaked her arm around his waist as he did the same, his arm around her shoulders, while Grantaire sat there with a dopey grin on his face, the three of them looking at Victoire and Toby on the rug. Toby looked up at Grantaire and seemed to pout, whining pathetically in his attempt to milk some sympathy. Laughing, Grantaire reached down to pick up Toby out of Victoire’s lap, much to the little girl’s displeasure. It took a total of eleven seconds for Victoire to start screaming after Toby was taken from her, angrily wailing and thrashing about as she sat cross-legged on the floor, startling the shit out of the three adults.

Grantaire turned to Éponine and Enjolras, green eyes wide with shock and slight fright as he held Toby in his arms. “Should I—should I give Toby back to her?” he asked, uncertain as his gaze flicked back and forth between the couple and their daughter, who was screaming her head off on the floor. As if out of protest, Toby barked in annoyance, ruling that option out.

“Vicky!” Éponine detached herself from Enjolras and bent down from her spot on the sofa to pick Victoire up, gently bouncing her up and down as she wailed loudly; it didn’t seem like she would stop anytime soon. “Shhhhh… Toby doesn’t want to play right now, Peanut.”

Victoire just screamed even more at her mother’s words, angry and upset, and she reached for Enjolras, who took her out of Éponine’s arms and into his own. Almost immediately, she quieted down as he gently bounced her up and down, softly shushing her and holding her as she clung to him, the tears streaming down her face steadily dwindling. Éponine narrowed her eyes in disbelief, shocked by how quickly it took for Enjolras to calm their daughter down; sure enough, Victoire was soon silent once again, curling up in Enjolras’ lap and clinging to him as Éponine looked at him, incredulous.

“How do you _do_ that?” she questioned, scrunching up her face as he turned to look at her. “She really does like you better than she likes me.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Enjolras pressed a kiss to Éponine’s temple as Victoire bunched up a bit of the fabric of his shirt in her little fists.

“She calmed down in, like, two seconds when you took her!” Éponine pointed out, gesturing to Victoire, who was now playing with the keys on Enjolras’ belt loop. Grantaire was watching on with Toby in his arms, clearly entertained by the scene unfolding before him. “I can never do that.”

“Yes, you can,” Enjolras contradicted, absently stroking Victoire’s golden hair as she played with the keys dangling from his belt loop. “Like I’ve told you before, she likes us both.”

“Yeah, but she likes you more, even if it’s just a little bit,” Éponine insisted, pouting.

Enjolras laughed and rolled his eyes, putting an arm around her and pulling her close, burying his face in her hair and pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he did the same with Victoire. “My favourite girls,” he murmured, unable to resist a smile when Victoire beamed up at him and giggled as Éponine pressed a kiss to his cheek, Grantaire watching with a toothy smile on his face.

“God, you three are adorable. It’s sickening.” Grantaire was met with a throw pillow to the face for that, courtesy of Éponine, and he simply laughed, tossing it back at her head and narrowly missing, hitting Enjolras instead.

“R, no offence, but you should probably go now,” Éponine told him when she saw the look on Enjolras’ face at being hit by a pillow, patting him on the back. “We’ll see you around.”

Grantaire got up with Toby in his arms, making his way to the door and waving goodbye to Victoire when she called out, “Bye bye, Unca R!” Once Grantaire and Toby were out of the apartment, Enjolras turned to Éponine.

“Do you think it’s time we give this little peanut here a bath?” he enquired.

Éponine grinned and pressed a playful kiss to his nose. “Yep, let’s go.”

* * *

“You really weren’t kidding when you said I was going to look like a pincushion, huh?”

Éponine stood with her arms spread out, biting her lip as the seamstress, Nancy, went about taking her measurements to get the dress fitted perfectly to her while Cosette sat in a plush little settee nearby, watching her. Unlike when she had gone to find the dress, Éponine had only brought Cosette along this time, resulting in the blonde now sitting there in the settee as Nancy the seamstress measured her up and stuck pins everywhere; all Éponine could do was stand there with her arms spread out, wearing her kitten heels underneath the dress and glancing at herself in the three-way mirror. She had gone out and bought some undergarments to wear with the dress a couple of days prior; underneath the bodice, she had on a backless, strapless bra with silicone cups that clung to her figure.

Cosette shrugged from her spot on the settee. “I did warn you beforehand.”

Éponine managed to remain unfazed, looking at herself in the mirror and observing her dress, looking for any possible imperfections so she could alert Nancy of them. The skirt of the gown needed to be shortened, now that she was wearing the kitten heels she was to be wearing at the wedding itself, and she watched as Nancy measured the length of the skirt and marked where it should shortened, the seamstress alerting Éponine that she could lower her arms now. Éponine let her arms hang loosely at her sides as Nancy worked her magic, searching for places where the dress should be lengthened, shortened, taken in, let out, or altered in some other way.

“Cosette, what do you think?” Éponine turned to her friend, anxious.

“You’re going to look fabulous on your wedding day,” Cosette told her with a smile, blue eyes sparkling. “Enjy’s not going to be able to take his eyes off of you.”

Éponine grinned giddily at herself in the mirror, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet before Nancy gently chided her and told her to stop. “I’m getting fucking _married_ in nine weeks, holy shit!”

She and Enjolras had met with the photographers and videographers a week ago as well as sent their event schedule to all the vendors before they reviewed the playlist with the DJ they had hired for the reception, having already finalised their menu and the flowers. The invitations had just been sent out two days prior and they had compiled a list of people who were to make toasts at the reception. They were planning on taking Victoire to buy her a dress in a month or so, just a week before their respective bachelorette and bachelor parties, during which Angela was to be in the city to look after Victoire for the night.

“Yay, Eppy!” Cosette cheered, clapping her hands together and beaming. “You’re getting married!”

“It’s still so crazy to think about.” Éponine turned around to face Cosette when Nancy motioned for her to turn, her cheeks rather flushed as a dimpled smile played at her lips. “I’m getting married. Like, I’m actually _getting married_ to the love of my fucking life.”

“Well, you have a kid with him, so…” Cosette shrugged her shoulders, laughing. “It really isn’t that surprising that you’re marrying him, to be honest. We’ve been wondering when he was going to ask you to marry him for a long time before he actually did.”

“So I heard.” Éponine turned around again to look at herself in the three-way mirror, observing her gown and smiling to herself. She may have had a strong disdain in regards to real-life royalty, but fuck it, she was going to look like a goddamn princess on her wedding day and she was going to thoroughly enjoy it. Her happily ever after had begun the moment Victoire was born, and she knew it would only become even happier with her impending marriage to Enjolras.

“I was thinking we could have a slumber party for my bachelorette night,” Éponine called over her shoulder to Cosette as Nancy told her to stand perfectly still. “Just a good ol’ all-gals slumber party at my place and get wasted. The boys are taking ’Jolras out somewhere, from what I’ve heard, and Vicky’s going to be with Angela for the night, so we’ve got the place to ourselves. We could just chill, watch a few movies… Maybe play a drinking game or two. Who knows.” After a while, Éponine added, “Also, I don’t want any penis-shaped objects at my bachelorette. Lipsticks, lollipops, straws… None of that shit. It’s just gross.”

“Noted,” Cosette responded swiftly, jotting it all down in the notes app of her phone. “No objects resembling penises. They’re vulgar.” Making a face at how that sounded out loud, Cosette remarked, “I don’t know why those things are such a hit at other bachelorette parties.”

“It’s because all those bachelorettes were all straight,” Éponine replied, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious.

Cosette considered it for a moment before cocking her head, agreeing. “Yeah, you’re not wrong. Nothing wrong with being straight, though. We just aren’t. We’re not about that kind of lifestyle.”

“Right.” Éponine turned back to look at herself in the mirror, feeling that same giddy feeling in her stomach upon seeing herself in her wedding dress, albeit the dress still being in the stages of being altered.

“God, I can’t wait,” she murmured, mostly to herself as she cocked her head and smiled giddily at her reflection. “I’ve never understood why people see marriage as a trap.”

“That’s because those people grew up with a screwed-up view of it,” Cosette replied matter-of-factly. “It really isn’t supposed to be a trap. It’s supposed to feel like coming home. Your next adventure with the love—or loves—of your life.”

“It does feel like that. I really can’t wait to marry him.” Éponine sighed rather dreamily, staring at herself in the mirror and imagining the end result.

Once the fitting was finally over, Éponine made sure to thank Nancy profusely before scheduling the next fitting and leaving the boutique with Cosette, the two of them searching for the nearest street vendor selling hot dogs and buying themselves generous helpings of said food. As they strolled down the streets of the city, chewing on their hot dogs, Cosette asked, “What movies do you want to watch on your bachelorette night?”

Éponine shrugged, stopping at a street corner just to lean against a store window and chew on her hot dog. “I don’t know. We should just break out all those classic chick flicks, like _Mean Girls_ and _The Princess Diaries_ , shit like that…” She trailed off, losing her train of thought as she took another bite out of her hot dog, her gaze fixed on the people walking past and the vehicles rushing by before her eyes. After a while, she said out of the blue, “You know what I really want right now?”

Cosette raised her eyebrows. “What?”

“Let’s go shopping for bath bombs,” Éponine suggested, dark eyes lighting up. “I’ve been so stressed out lately, I could really use a bath bomb.”

“Ooh, great idea!” Cosette shoved what little was left of her hot dog into her mouth, chewing it before swallowing and bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “I think I know a Lush store not far from here, let’s go there!”

Éponine laughed at Cosette’s enthusiasm and linked her arm with the blonde’s, the two of them beginning to make their way down the pavement side by side.


	9. Chapter IX

* * *

Éponine arrived at home later that night with a bag containing three different bath bombs from Lush, the sun having just set outside, the skies painted in a deep shade of midnight blue. The first thing she heard when she opened the door to step inside was some slow Disney song playing, and as she closed the door behind her and kicked her shoes off, she craned her neck to see what the hell was going on, her eyes landing on Enjolras and Victoire in the living room, the two of them clumsily waltzing around to “Beauty and the Beast”. Victoire was giggling the entire time as Enjolras attempted to dance with her as best as he could with the considerable height difference between him and the two-year-old, a little smile of amusement on his face as Victoire steered him around the room, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Éponine couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them dancing around like that, leaning against the archway of the living room and watching Enjolras and their daughter gracelessly waltzing around the room to Disney music. Soon enough, Victoire took notice of Éponine standing there and her deep brown eyes lit up at the sight of her mother; one look was all it took for a wide smile to burst across the little girl’s face, and she hollered, “Mommy home!”

Victoire rushed across the living room to jump into Éponine’s arms, catching the young woman off-guard and causing her to stagger backwards from the weight of her daughter unexpectedly throwing herself into her arms. After regaining her balance, Éponine managed to hold Victoire steady, blowing raspberries on the toddler’s stomach and making her scream with laughter. Once she had satisfied herself, Éponine held Victoire in her arms with a huge smile on her face, bouncing the toddler up and down. “Hi, Peanut!” she said brightly, pressing a kiss to Victoire’s forehead. “How was your day? What did you do with Daddy?”

Victoire merely laughed in response and babbled something illegible, evoking laughter from Éponine as Enjolras went over to join them. Éponine couldn’t help but smile as he approached them, looking up and standing on tiptoe to press her lips to his in a soft kiss in greeting. He had a goofy little smile on his face once she pulled away and she laughed, asking softly, “What did you guys do today?”

“The little peanut wanted me to dance with her after we watched _Beauty and the Beast_ ,” Enjolras replied, gesturing to Victoire, who was now twisting two locks of Éponine’s hair together, fascinated by the dark colour and how it contrasted against her own golden hair. “Who am I to say no to her?”

Éponine bit her lip to resist a teasing grin, saying playfully, “She really does have you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

“Ever since she was born,” Enjolras affirmed, playing along, putting an arm around Éponine and leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Thank you.”

“What for?” Éponine’s brow furrowed as she fixed Enjolras with a curious look, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards in the tiniest hint of a smile.

“Everything.” Enjolras bowed his head, leaning in until his forehead was pressed against Éponine’s and closing his eyes, letting out a deep, contented sigh. “Loving me, Victoire, being the greatest fiancée and mother and the best friend anyone could ever ask for… I love you.”

Éponine smiled and briefly closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss and feeling him smile against her lips. “I love you too, nerd.”

“Mommy!” Victoire demanded attention, tugging at Éponine’s hair and effectively getting her mother’s notice once again. Éponine winced when Victoire gave her hair a harsh tug, giving her daughter a look when her eyes were on the little girl’s once again.

“No, Vicky, don’t pull on my hair,” Éponine gently reprimanded. “It’s not nice and it hurts.”

Victoire merely pouted but she did as she was told, letting go of Éponine’s hair and putting her chubby little arms around her mother’s neck, leaning close to lay her head against Éponine’s chest. Gently bouncing Victoire up and down, Éponine turned her head back to look at Enjolras, who was gazing at them both with a strange look in his blue eyes.

“Why are you looking at us like that?” she asked softly, a little smile playing at her lips.

“She looks so much like you,” Enjolras murmured in response, in quiet awe. “It’s like I’m seeing double.”

“She has your hair,” Éponine pointed out. “And your chin. And when she smiles…”

“Yes, but the rest is all you.” Enjolras watched as Éponine gently bounced Victoire, the toddler clinging to her and seeming to sing a little nonsense song under her breath with a dreamy smile on her face. “How did the dress fitting go?” he asked, changing the subject.

“It went well,” Éponine replied. “I’m going to look amazing when we get married. I also stopped by Lush afterwards with Cosette to buy a few bath bombs, maybe a bath would destress me. I’m planning on going once Vicky’s in bed, you’re more than welcome to join me. We could both use some relaxation.”

“I’ll consider it.” Enjolras’ blue eyes were soft as he murmured, “I’m going to cry when you’re walking down the aisle, won’t I?”

“Damn, I hope so!” Éponine laughed out loud and stood on tiptoe to kiss his nose. “You better cry. No, I’m just kidding. But really.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Enjolras shook his head, rolling his eyes, but the tiny smile on his face gave it all away as Éponine grinned sweetly at him. “Also, don’t swear around our kid.”

Éponine scrunched up her face at him, rolling her eyes in amusement. “Oh, shush, it was just one word. A slip of the tongue, as you would say. You weren’t the one who had to go through hours of labour and then go into a frigging coma for _ten days_ afterwards, I don’t want to hear it. You love me anyway.”

“Why, yes, I do, how did you know?”

“Christ, you’re a sap.” Éponine briefly turned her attention to Victoire, whose head was still laying on her chest as she sang a little song to herself, before she turned back to her fiancé. “You looking forward to your stag night?” she questioned, teasingly smirking up at him and chortling when his cheeks flushed red.

“I have no idea what the others are planning,” Enjolras admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’ve been keeping me in the dark about their plans for the party. Honestly, I just want to get it over with; I want to marry you as soon as possible.”

Éponine rolled her eyes, smiling. “Jesus, you really are a sap, aren’t you? I’ve never met anyone this excited to get married before, and we’re friends with _Marius and Cosette_.”

“Oh, sue me. Of course I’m excited to marry my best friend and the love of my life.” Enjolras pretended to flick Éponine’s forehead, teasing, “I hope you are too, otherwise we’d have a lot to discuss and rethink about our wedding.”

“How could you even think that?” Éponine feigned hurt, a faux-wounded look on her face as she stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “Are you doubting me, your _fiancée_? We have a _lot_ to discuss if you are.”

Enjolras chuckled and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss. “I was just teasing, ’Ponine.”

Despite herself, Éponine laughed. She couldn’t help it, not when he was being such an endearing dork and inadvertently reminding her of all the reasons she fell in love with him. “I know you were. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Enjolras leaned down as Éponine stood on tiptoe to press his lips to hers in a tender kiss before they were interrupted by Victoire yelling in Éponine’s arms, breaking apart at the sound of their daughter’s voice.

“Mommy!” A clap of thunder shook the apartment just then, and only then did Éponine realise that it had begun pouring outside, the harsh sound of rain against the windows and the deafening thunder scaring Victoire and reducing her to tears, her dark eyes clouding over as her bottom lip quivered. She clung to Éponine for dear life, beginning to cry as an even louder crackle of thunder resounded outside, sharp and booming, and Éponine began to bounce the little girl up and down in an attempt to soothe her daughter’s heart-wrenching sobs, gently shushing her.

“It’s all right, Peanut,” she whispered, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her daughter’s head. “It’s just a thunderstorm. Just rain, see?”

Éponine walked over to the window and drew back the curtains, watching rainwater wash down the glass and blurring their view of the streets outside, the darkened skies illuminated blue by lightning, closely followed by claps of thunder. Enjolras trailed after them both, standing beside Éponine as she pointed out how pretty the rain made everything look to Victoire, who whimpered and buried her face in Éponine’s shoulder at the sonorous thunder that rattled the apartment, her sobs muffled by her mother’s shirt. Éponine turned to look at Enjolras, biting her lip as she bounced their daughter up and down in her arms in her attempts to soothe the crying toddler, the thunderstorm raging on outside chasing all the light indoors. “Has she always been afraid of thunderstorms?” Éponine asked quizzically, her voice low.

“Yes,” Enjolras replied. “You’ve slept through a lot of thunderstorms in the past, I’m usually the one who ends up calming her down.”

“Oh.” A look of dismay crossed Éponine’s face for a split second as she told him quietly, “I’m sorry, ’Jolras. I—I should be helping calm her down as well.”

“You’re doing it right now, love.” Enjolras gestured to Victoire and Éponine’s gaze returned to the little blonde toddler in her arms, and to her utter surprise, Victoire had been lulled to sleep by her mother’s gentle words and murmured reassurance despite the storm raging on outdoors. The little girl was out like a light, her long lashes fluttering every now and then as she slept, her head on Éponine’s shoulder, her breathing having steadied and her heartbeat having evened out, and Éponine’s heart swelled at just holding her daughter as she slept soundly, pudgy arms wrapped tight around Éponine’s neck. She looked back at Enjolras with a surprised little smile on her face, her cheeks flushing pink when she noticed how the corners of his mouth had tugged up in the smallest smile at the sight of her and Victoire.

“You don’t have to apologise for anything, ’Ponine.” Enjolras walked over to her and pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head, putting an arm around her and pulling her close. “Not with all you went through to give birth to her…” He closed his eyes and let out a little sigh at the memory of the days he had spent at her bedside in the hospital, long and agonising and awful, as he waited for her to wake up from that dreadful coma she had gone into after giving birth to Victoire. He leaned in to press his forehead to Éponine’s, exhaling. “Calming her down when she gets scared of thunderstorms is the least I can do.”

She smiled and closed her eyes as well, standing on tiptoe and leaning in to press her lips to his in a brief kiss. “How about we get this little peanut to bed?” she suggested softly once she was standing before him once again, Victoire conked out on her shoulder. “Maybe we could go take a bath together after. These bath bombs are just begging to be used.” She went over to the front door and picked up the paper bag from where she had dropped it earlier when Victoire came rushing at her.

The corners of Enjolras’ mouth tilted up in a slight smile. “Come on.”

They went on their way to Victoire’s bedroom to go and tuck her in, having converted her crib to a little toddler bed a little under a year ago, once she got the hang of walking—Éponine dearly remembered how she had been gifted with the crib during her baby shower by Les Amis, smiling to herself at the memory as she stooped down to press a kiss to her sleeping daughter’s head. “Good night, Peanut,” she whispered, straightening back up and watching as Enjolras did the same.

“Sleep tight, Victoire.” He got back up and put his arm around Éponine, the two of them watching as Victoire curled up in her sleep and wrapped the blankets tighter around herself, turning her body away from them in that little toddler bed, and Éponine couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Once she and Enjolras had turned on her starry nightlight after turning off the lights, they left the room to make their way to the bathroom, bath bombs in hand.

Once inside, Éponine rifled through the three different bath bombs she had bought with Cosette, humming to herself as she did so. “Which one should we use?” Éponine questioned, looking up at Enjolras. “I’ve got intergalactic, sakura, and this one.” She held up a pretty ball of pink and purple the size of her fist, a rose shape carved into the bath bomb, and she grinned suggestively up at him. “Appropriately named ‘sex bomb’.”

Enjolras’ cheeks burned red at the implications in Éponine’s tone as she grinned and laughed like a madwoman at the look on his face. “Jesus Christ, ’Ponine.”

“Should we use this one?” Éponine waved it around in his face as if to rub it in, and for just a fleeting moment, it was only them—no friends, no kids, no parents. It was just the two of them together in that bathroom, playfully bantering between themselves. “’Jolras, I can’t choose if you don’t give an opinion.”

“Sure, let’s use that one. Why not?” He ducked away to fill up the bathtub with steaming hot water, cheeks flaming scarlet as Éponine laughed and stripped down to her underwear behind him. Once the bathtub was all filled up, the two of them standing there stark naked, Éponine dropped the bath bomb into the water and alternated between watching it dissolve and watching Enjolras’ reaction to it.

She smiled to herself at the look of quiet wonder on his face as he tilted his head slightly, watching the bath bomb dissolve in the water and tinge it with pink and purple colours, releasing a sweet scent into the air. Once the bath bomb had completely dissolved into nothing, swirls of pink and purple streaking the water, Éponine carefully pried her engagement ring off her finger to place it on the bathroom counter and unclasped the thin silver chain of her locket to place it on the counter with her ring before turning her head to look at her fiancé, a little smile on her face. “Shall we?”

Moments later, they were in the bathtub together, only the slightest bit cramped, with Éponine’s back against Enjolras’ chest and her head resting against his collarbone as his arms wrapped around her torso, much of their bodies immersed in water. They had lit a few scented candles, placing them around the bathroom and dimming the lights; the water felt silky as Éponine absent-mindedly dipped her finger in it, swirling it around and making patterns in the coloured water as she sighed and lay back against Enjolras’ chest, content. Her hair was up in a high messy bun, the two of them somehow managing to keep their hair dry, and she was humming softly as he absently trailed his hand up the curve of her hip, watching the flickering candles before them.

“’Jolras?” Éponine murmured after a while, catching his attention.

“Mhmm?” he hummed in acknowledgement, pressing his lips to her temple.

“These past three years have been pretty crazy for us, haven’t they?” Éponine shifted slightly, curling up in Enjolras’ arms right there in the bathtub. “We moved in together a year before for convenience purposes, then we got drunk off our asses on your twenty-fourth birthday and slept together, you knocked me up with Vicky, we got together a few months later, and now Vicky’s two and we’re engaged. It’s been a wild fucking roller coaster ride.”

“Well, there’s nobody I’d rather spend that roller coaster ride with than you.” Enjolras pulled her closer to him, her head resting against the crook of his neck as she absent-mindedly traced patterns in the swirls of pinks and purples in the water, and he kissed her temple, muscular arms wrapped tight around Éponine’s slim figure.

Éponine shifted once again to look up at him, brown eyes finding blue. “Promise you won’t leave?”

“Of course I won’t,” Enjolras promised, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “I made that promise a long time ago. You’re my best friend, ’Ponine. The love of my life. I’ll always be there for you.”

“You sure you don’t regret being stuck with me?” Éponine pressed, that damn need for validation and affection nagging at the back of her mind.

“I don’t regret anything.” He leaned in to press his lips to hers in a tender kiss, barely able to keep himself from smiling against her lips when she sighed in contentment, kissing him back without hesitation. Once he had pulled away from her, he murmured, “I love you.”

Éponine smiled up at him, and the world grew a little brighter because of it. “I love you, too.”

She went back to resting her head against his collarbone once again as the two of them sat there in the bathtub in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence and the silky feeling of the water against their bare skin. After a while, Éponine spoke again.

“You think Vicky’s going to sleep through the night?” she questioned softly.

Enjolras nodded with certainty. “I think she will. Once she’s out, she’s out.”

“What colour dress do you think she should wear?” Éponine asked. “I was thinking something pale pink so it won’t clash too much with the bridesmaids’ dresses.”

“Pale pink sounds good.” Enjolras thought about it for a little while more before asking, “Do you think she’ll understand what’s going on?”

“We’ll explain it to her when we’re buying her the dress,” Éponine told him, taking one of his hands in hers and lacing their fingers together. “She understands a lot more than she can speak. We could have her practise doing it before our wedding comes around.” She was thinking of showing Victoire Marius and Cosette’s wedding video to show her how Marius’ cousin’s daughter had been the flower girl so the toddler would hopefully get the gist of what she was supposed to do.

Enjolras gave Éponine’s hand a squeeze as she settled back in, head resting against his chest. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafting through the bathroom, courtesy of the scented candles they had lit, along with the feeling of the silky water against their naked skin sent them into a heavenly sort of bliss, and for the first time in ages, they felt truly relaxed. They were content.

* * *

Éponine pushed open the glass door of the children’s boutique Cosette had recommended and stepped inside, Enjolras and Victoire close behind her with Victoire in Enjolras’ arms. Éponine wasted no time in making her way over to the toddler section of the store, looking at the little dresses and suits on display. Victoire jutted out her bottom lip from her spot in Enjolras’ arms, calling, “Mommy?”

Éponine turned around, one eyebrow raised expectantly. “What is it, Peanut?”

Victoire babbled something that Éponine interpreted as “What’s going on?” The little girl began to try to pull herself out of Enjolras’ arms and he stooped down to put her down on the ground so she could toddle over to Éponine, tilting her head as she looked up at the dresses, mildly fascinated. “What we doing?” she questioned, looking up at her mother with a curious look in her brown eyes.

Éponine stooped down to be at eye level with her daughter, taking a deep breath before she began to explain, “Vicky, Mommy and Daddy are getting married soon, and we want you to be the flower girl in our wedding.”

Victoire looked puzzled, carefully repeating after Éponine, “Flower girl?”

Éponine nodded. “Yes, we want you to be our flower girl. You’re going to walk down the aisle and you’re going to have a basket of flower petals with you. You’re going to throw the flower petals down the aisle while you’re walking, and then when you get to the end, you’re going to go sit down in the front row with Nana and Papa. Can we do that?”

If anything, Victoire simply looked even more bewildered, trying to process what her mother just said. Éponine stood back up and took Victoire’s hand, the two of them walking to a nearby couch as Éponine pulled out her phone to show Victoire a clip from Marius and Cosette’s wedding video. Victoire sat down in her mother’s lap, transfixed by the video on the little screen, and at some point, Victoire pointed at the tiny image of Éponine and looked up at her. “Mommy?”

“Yes, that’s Mommy,” Éponine confirmed, rather caught off-guard by the sight of the bump she had had when she had been pregnant with Victoire. “And there’s you.” Éponine pointed to her bump, laughing when Victoire looked up and gave her a quizzical look. “You were still in my tummy back then, Peanut.”

Victoire watched the video intently, tilting her head as she watched the little flower girl, one of Marius’ cousins’ daughters, walking down the aisle and tossing flower petals as she did so before taking a seat with her parents on the seats to the right of the aisle. Once she had seen it, Éponine turned her phone off and told the little girl, “That’s all you need to do! You’ll sit down with Nana and Papa up in the front once it’s done. Do you want to do that?”

Victoire seemed to consider it for a moment before she nodded, a little smile on her face. Éponine couldn’t resist a little squeal of delight as she pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before Victoire slid off her lap and onto the floor, Éponine standing up shortly afterwards. Enjolras was standing before the array of little girls’ dresses, confused beyond belief at the various different dresses and turning to Éponine once she and Victoire had reached him. “Which one?” he asked, gesturing to them all.

“Maybe we should let Vicky have a say,” Éponine suggested, bending down to hoist the toddler up into her arms and lightly running her hand over one of the dresses as Victoire giggled, the dimples in her cheeks showing. Éponine turned to Victoire and asked brightly, “What do you think, Vicky?”

Victoire pointed at a pale pink dress that seemed to have caught her attention and Enjolras took it off the hanger, Éponine taking a close look at it and letting out a low, appreciative whistle shortly after. “Damn, our kid’s got good taste,” she murmured in awe, Enjolras gently elbowing her in a silent reminder not to curse around Victoire.

It was an adorable little thing—the tea-length dress was in a pale shade of bubblegum pink, the skirt made of organza with a satin edge, as well as a crew-neck bodice adorned with a handmade flower, and the dress came with a matching Alice band decorated with a little flower as well. Éponine nodded immediately, cooing to Victoire, “You want to wear that dress, Peanut?”

Victoire nodded happily, a sweet smile on her face. “Mhmm!”

“Okay, we’ll get this one, then!” Éponine handed Victoire off to Enjolras as she looked through identical dresses to find one in Victoire’s size, unable to resist a snort of laughter when she looked at the price. “’Jolras, look.” She beckoned him over, a shit-eating grin on her face as she showed him the price tag. “It’s sixty-nine dollars.” She doubled over with laughter splitting her sides when she took one look at the look on Enjolras’ face, Victoire watching with a look of puzzlement on her face. Enjolras sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking his head and trying to keep himself from smiling in amusement—honestly, he should have seen this coming, considering how juvenile his fiancée could be sometimes.

“I’m marrying an actual child,” he muttered under his breath once Éponine composed herself, still chortling as she took the dress off its hanger to bring over to the cashier, Enjolras and Victoire close behind her. Once they had paid for the dress, receiving one dollar as change after paying with seventy dollars, they left the little boutique with no particular destination other than home in mind. Victoire squirmed in Enjolras’ arms, alerting him that she wanted to be put down, and once her feet were on the pavement and her hand in Enjolras’, he turned to Éponine, who was clutching the bag containing Victoire’s dress and headband.

“Where to?” he questioned, cocking his head as his blue eyes met her brown.

Éponine shrugged. “Want to go grab some lunch?”

* * *

Éponine and Enjolras sat on the living room sofa together, all curled up with a knit blanket thrown over them as they watched Star Wars together. Angela had come by earlier that afternoon to pick up Victoire to take her out for the night, presumably to the apartment Angela and Antoine had in Queens, and the sun had started to set outside, streaking the skies with all different shades of reds and oranges and casting a fiery glow on the living room through the window. Éponine sighed and curled into Enjolras, wrapping the blanket tighter around themselves.

“Do you have any idea what you guys are going to be doing for your bachelor party?” she questioned at some point, looking up at Enjolras.

He shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea. I think they’re keeping me in the dark on purpose.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang and the both of them looked up, turning their heads to the direction of the front door. Éponine whined, sticking out her bottom lip petulantly. “We’ll have to answer that, won’t we?”

Enjolras set the blanket aside and stood up, pulling Éponine to her feet when she gave him her hand. “Come on, ’Ponine, it’s probably them.”

Sure enough, once they opened the door, all the rest of Les Amis were standing there save for Gavroche, crowding the front steps to their apartment and grinning at the couple. All the men had the most ridiculous, rather enormous pin-back buttons adorning their shirts while the women had silk robes in hand, brushing past Éponine and Enjolras and into the apartment.

“No offence, Enjy, but it’s time you get your ass out of here for the night,” Musichetta told the golden-haired man, scrunching up her face at him.

Enjolras turned back to the rest of the men, feeling dread settle in the pit of his stomach as Combeferre stepped up and handed him a button similar to those of the others, except his had the words “the groom” decorating the button while Combeferre’s said “best man”, the others having “team groom” on their buttons. “Am I actually supposed to wear this?” Enjolras asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” Combeferre replied firmly. “Put it on. No excuses.”

Enjolras begrudgingly pinned the button onto the breast pocket of his plaid button-up shirt, rolling his eyes when all the other men cheered as he did so. Turning back to Éponine, he mustered a smile as he leaned in to quickly kiss her goodbye before he drew back, smiling down at her. “Have fun, ’Ponine. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Éponine replied, returning his bright-eyed smile. “Have fun. Stay safe.” Turning to the other men, she threatened, “Boys, I’ll rip off your baby-making bits if you don’t return my fiancé in one piece, got it?”

“Christ, always so fucking violent,” Bahorel muttered under his breath, although he did draw back just slightly at Éponine’s threat, having seen the glint in her dark eyes.

“We’ll bring him back alive and in one piece, Ep, don’t worry,” Combeferre promised, giving Éponine a quick hug as Courfeyrac and Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’ arms and dragged him out of the apartment, Combeferre closing the door behind him and leaving the women inside. Enjolras turned to his best man, a questioning, rather sceptical look on his face.

“Where are you guys taking me?”

“Shut up and get in the van,” Courfeyrac replied for Combeferre, dragging Enjolras down the steps and shoving him into the minivan they seemed to have rented for the night. Before Enjolras could say anything, he felt a blindfold being wrapped around his head and making everything go black, and he let out an indignant little noise of protest.

“What the _fuck_ , why are you blindfolding me?” He was just about to reach up and pull the blindfold off before someone, Enjolras couldn’t tell who, slapped his hands away.

“It’s a _surprise_ , Enj, calm down. We’ll be there soon enough if ’Ferre drives quick,” Enjolras heard Feuilly say from somewhere behind him as the car began to move, getting on the road.

“Where the hell are we going?” Enjolras couldn’t help but ask, irate.

“Did you not hear what Feuilly said? It’s a _surprise_ , you dumbass,” Grantaire’s voice cut in. “I think you’ll really like this surprise.”

Enjolras could actually feel the blood draining from his face with dread as he asked tentatively, “There aren’t going to be strippers, are there?”

“Do you think we’re idiots?” Courfeyrac’s voice responded; Enjolras suspected that he was sitting up front with Combeferre, who was presumably driving the van.

Enjolras sighed in exasperation. “That doesn’t answer the question, Courf.”

The others simply gave him vague, often conflicting answers for the rest of the ride, only succeeding in confusing Enjolras even further as he grew impatient, barely managing to resist the urge to scream at yet another perplexing answer from Jehan. It took all of his willpower not to fucking lose it as he eventually gave up on asking more questions, silently admitting defeat and slumping down in his seat, having lost all the energy he had had when furiously asking the others questions about where they were whisking him off to. Figuring that he might as well take a nap while he was at it, Enjolras closed his eyes under the blindfold, silently praying that he’d fall asleep immediately.

It felt as if he had only been sleeping for a second when the van screeched to a stop and the others began to clamber out, dragging him along with them, and once their feet were on what Enjolras hoped was the pavement, they _finally_ pulled that damned blindfold off, and he looked up at the building they were standing in front of right at that very moment.

It was a karaoke bar.

But not just any karaoke bar.

It was _the_ karaoke bar, that goddamn karaoke bar the others had dragged him off to nearly three years ago for his twenty-fourth birthday.

The karaoke bar where his life first turned completely upside down.

The fucking karaoke bar where _everything_ changed.

He turned to the others, a look of utter shock and mild disbelief on his face, and they all grinned at him in response.

“Surprise.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [vicky’s dress.](https://www.lunss.com/uploads/product/4/I/4I518/adorable-bubble-pink-ball-gown-tea-length-flower-girl-kid-dress-1.jpg)


	10. Chapter X

* * *

“Seriously, guys?”

The look on Enjolras’ face must have been priceless because quite a few of the Amis doubled over with laughter as he kept switching his gaze between the boys and the karaoke bar, and Combeferre calmly explained, “We all pitched in to rent the whole place out for your stag night, it’ll just be us and the bartender. Figured we might as well take you back to the place where things with Éponine first started.”

“You’re _welcome_ , by the way,” Courfeyrac snarked, readjusting the “team groom” button on his shirt. “We wouldn’t be here today if we didn’t drag your ass over here for your birthday three years ago, so really, when you think about it, it’s because of us that you’re even with Ep in the first place.”

Enjolras scoffed and rolled his eyes, though Courfeyrac was, maddeningly enough, actually right for once—when he thought about it, he really wouldn’t be here today, having a bachelor party after getting engaged to Éponine a year after their daughter was born after he knocked her up on his twenty-fourth birthday when they slept together after getting drunk off his fucking ass at this very bar they were standing before right now, if the others hadn’t forced him out of his apartment to go here for his birthday nearly three years ago and succeeded in getting him completely wasted.

“Come on, guys, let’s go inside! I need alcohol in my system!” Grantaire stomped his foot impatiently, reminding Enjolras of how Victoire would do that sometimes whenever she wanted something, and the golden-haired man resisted a snort at the mental image as Combeferre went ahead and opened the door to the bar, the others filing inside as Enjolras trailed after them, somewhat reluctantly.

Combeferre must have noticed the slight hesitation in Enjolras’ step, asking quietly once Enjolras reached the door, “You okay?”

Enjolras nodded. “I’m fine. I miss ’Ponine.”

Combeferre said nothing, unable to find a response that would be deemed appropriate to that, and merely put his arm around Enjolras’ shoulders, the two of them walking inside the bar. The bartender was already setting things up for karaoke, having already placed plenty of drinks out on the counter, and just then, a single thought crossed Enjolras’ mind and he turned to Combeferre to look at him through wide blue eyes. “There aren’t going to be strippers, are there?”

“No, of course not,” Combeferre reassured him. “I did tell you I was going to keep Courf’s bachelor party plans from getting out of hand, didn’t I?”

“We _are_ going to be playing some drinking games, though!” Grantaire hollered out from nearby, grabbing some tequila off the bar counter and taking a shot.

Of course he was _already_ tipsy.

“Enjy, do a shot!” Jehan was gleefully bouncing up and down, a giant dopey grin on his face—Enjolras had forgotten how the ginger had the lowest tolerance out of all of them, tied with Marius.

Enjolras refused.

He tried to go for as long as he could without drinking. He managed to get through ten minutes before giving in and taking a shot of whiskey.

Cheers erupted from the rest of the group as Enjolras let the burning liquid slide down his throat, setting his insides on fire. His tolerance wasn’t quite as low as Jehan’s or Marius’, but it wasn’t as high as Grantaire’s or Bahorel’s, either—he supposed he was somewhere in the middle. “I miss Éponine!” Enjolras yelled out without thinking, the alcohol already beginning to get to him as he grabbed an entire bottle of whiskey from the bartender and chugged.

“New game!” Courfeyrac shouted, jumping up onto a chair. “Take a shot every time Enjy mentions Ep!”

Everyone else cheered and took a shot, Jehan already bouncing up and down and looking as if he was on the verge of climbing up on a table and dancing his heart out, and reluctantly, Enjolras took another enormous swig of whiskey.

His head was spinning as the whiskey slid down his throat, his insides burning from the glorious feeling. As Courfeyrac took the stage to sing Roxanne with the intention of getting everyone else drunk, making everyone drink each time he sang “Roxanne” or “red light”, Enjolras grinned. This was shaping up to be quite a night.

* * *

“What are these?”

Éponine held her white silk robe in her hands, eyes falling to the word “bride” embroidered on the back in loopy cursive. The other women had already stripped down to their underwear and put on their own robes over their undergarments, crimson with the word “bridesmaid” embroidered on the back of Cosette’s and Musichetta’s while Azelma’s robe was emblazoned with “maid of honour”, their names embroidered in smaller cursive on the front on each of their robes.

“It’s a robe, duh,” Cosette replied as if it was obvious, Musichetta having exited the living room on the search for drinks. “We’re going to be wearing these on your wedding day, before we get you into your dress. Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Éponine ran her fingers over the smooth silk, astounded by how soft the fabric was. “Is this actual silk?”

“Hell yeah it is, we want nothing but the best,” Musichetta piped up as she came back into the room with two bottles of vodka and some wine in hand, placing them on the coffee table before scampering back into the kitchen to grab some shot glasses and regular glass cups out of the cupboards she couldn’t quite reach without climbing up onto the counter. “Put it on!” she called over her shoulder.

Éponine rolled her eyes in amusement and took her clothes off until she was in nothing but her underwear, slipping into the robe and marvelling at the soft feeling as she walked over to a mirror, looking at herself. It was a nice fit on her, hugging her curves, her name embroidered in silver cursive on the breast of the robe. Once she had sat back down in the living room, Musichetta had carried some shot glasses and cups over from the kitchen along with an enormous bottle of whiskey and another of tequila, Azelma messing around a bit with the smart TV and looking through the chick flicks Éponine and Enjolras had on demand.

“What should we watch first?” Cosette prompted, bouncing up and down as Musichetta filled up the numerous shot glasses with vodka, filling up the rest with either whiskey or tequila and pouring wine into the four glass cups she had taken from the kitchen.

“I miss Louis,” Azelma mumbled absent-mindedly as she looked at the movies available on demand, frowning to herself.

“Where is he right now?” Éponine asked, furrowing her brow. Victoire had gone with Angela earlier that day and Éponine knew Marius and Cosette had left Aimée and Adrien with Cosette’s father and Javert, leaving her to wonder where her nephew was.

“Courf’s mom,” Azelma replied. “Should we play a game before watching anything?”

“Depends on how hard we’re going to go,” Musichetta pointed out. “I’m assuming we’ll be playing a drinking game while watching at least one of the movies?”

“Yeah,” Éponine confirmed, eyeing the numerous drinks scattered on the coffee table and smiling to herself. _Alcohol, how I’ve missed you._ “Let’s play Never Have I Ever before that. First one to reach five shots loses.”

“Sweet, I’ll go first!” Musichetta pulled one of the throw pillows off the sofa and placed it underneath her to sit on, announcing, “Never have I ever gotten pregnant.”

“You’re a bitch,” Azelma spat scathingly as she took a shot, Éponine and Cosette doing the same while Musichetta looked on with a smug smirk on her face. “My turn. Never have I ever been in a threesome.”

The smug look on Musichetta’s face was quick to turn indignant as she grabbed a shot of vodka off the coffee table and downed it, muttering, “Touché.” They were all too surprised when Cosette took a shot as well, turning to look at her in disbelief as she looked at them all through wide blue eyes, brow furrowed in slight confusion.

“What?” Cosette said at last, shrugging. “I did a lot of stuff the summer before our freshman year of college, before I met Marius. Convinced Papa to let me go on a road trip all the way down to Florida with a couple of old high school friends—he wouldn’t let us go cross-country, said it was too dangerous for three eighteen-year-old girls—we fooled around a bit here and there… It’s how I realised I‘m pan.” Clearing her throat, she continued, “Moving on! My turn now. Never have I ever…” She paused, wracking her mind for anything she could possibly use against the others. At last, she let out a little squeal of delight, finishing, “Jaywalked.”

The others let out cries of protest as they begrudgingly took shots, Éponine questioning incredulously, “You’ve _never_ jaywalked? We live in _New York City_ , Cosette, I call bullshit.”

“Nope, I’ve really never done it,” Cosette replied, shrugging once again.

Musichetta let out a cough that sounded vaguely like “Goody two-shoes” before Éponine took the reins, announcing, “My turn now! Never have I ever been designated driver.”

“Lucky bitch,” Musichetta remarked as she and Cosette took shots, the Thénardier sisters looking all smug as they watched the other two do so. Once the alcohol was in their systems, Musichetta said, “So how many shots did we each have?”

“Uh…” Azelma counted it in her head, saying at last, “Two.”

“Yeah, two,” Éponine echoed.

“Three,” Musichetta and Cosette said in unison, Musichetta muttering under her breath afterwards, “I can’t fucking believe I’m losing…”

“If it’s any consolation, it’s your turn now.” Cosette rubbed Musichetta’s back reassuringly as the small woman thought up a question.

“Never have I ever made out with someone in the bathtub,” Musichetta said at last, looking around and raising her eyebrows, smirking in triumph when Éponine took a shot.

“Just last night, actually,” Éponine mumbled under her breath, not intending for any of the other girls to hear and cringing when Azelma wolf-whistled, alerting her that they had all heard her after all.

“Never have I ever been given breakfast in bed,” Azelma called out.

“By breakfast in bed, do you mean actual breakfast in bed or do you mean…” When Azelma nodded, affirming Éponine’s suspicions, the brunette groaned and took a shot, blushing fiercely as Musichetta let out a whoop, Cosette taking a shot as well. Éponine told them all, “Anyway, guys, don’t ever stay in a relationship with anyone who refuses to go down on you but expects you to go down on them.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Musichetta replied cheerfully as the others nodded in agreement. “I’m assuming Enj gives great head?”

Éponine let out an outraged little noise, scandalised. “We have to draw the line _somewhere_ , Chetta!”

“He goes down on you a lot, doesn’t he?” Musichetta pressed, tilting her head expectantly.

“…Yes.”

“I fucking knew it.” Musichetta looked particularly pleased with herself at getting a dirty confession out of Éponine; to her credit, she didn’t say anything else on the matter, instead telling Cosette, “It’s your turn now.”

“Never have I ever had a sex dream about someone I liked,” Cosette announced, watching as Éponine and Musichetta each took shots.

“You two seriously haven’t?” Musichetta looked disbelieving of that fact as Cosette and Azelma nodded affirmative. “Jesus, what boring dreams you must have.”

“Éponine loses!” Azelma crowed gleefully, bouncing up and down in place as she grabbed the remote. “Let’s watch a movie now! What should we watch?”

“ _Mean Girls_!” Cosette shouted out, jumping up onto the sofa and hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “There’s a drinking game for it, I think, let me look it up first.” Once she had pulled up a website on her phone, she read out loud, “One drink whenever ‘Girl World’ is mentioned, someone mispronounces Cady’s name, Regina does something bitchy, someone says ‘Plastics’, Cady does a voiceover, an entry from the Burn Book is read aloud, someone talks about Regina, Damian says or does something flamboyant, or Aaron Samuels appears; two drinks whenever someone says ‘Africa’, a language other than English is spoken, someone calls Karen stupid including Karen herself, Gretchen reveals a secret, someone says ‘fetch’, or there’s a three-way call; three drinks whenever Janis crosses something off her blackboard; and finish your drink whenever someone is hit by a bus or the words ‘you can’t sit with us’ are spoken.”

Azelma snorted derisively. “Are we trying to kill ourselves or just get drunk off our asses?”

“Can you repeat those?” Éponine felt as if her brain was already beginning to be clouded by the alcohol she had had, having spaced out when Cosette read the instructions out loud. She tended to get a little spacey when she drank. She usually got spacey or had no sense of volume control after a few drinks—or both.

Cosette sighed loudly. “I’ll just read off the list and tell you guys whenever we gotta chug, okay?”

Musichetta snatched the remote away from Azelma, much to the redhead’s outrage, and she didn’t hesitate to press play on _Mean Girls_ , the four of them settling down in their spots as the movie began to play.

Éponine, in her drunken daze, quickly found that Cosette was rather fond of saying Karen Smith’s iconic lines whenever they came up, looking back and forth between the blonde and the TV screen and puzzled by how Cosette looked an awful lot like Karen. It was almost scary. Maybe she was overthinking it because she was kind of shitfaced at that point, taking a drink or two or three whenever Cosette told them all to do so, but she leaned over to whisper loudly to Cosette anyway, “You know, you look just like Karen. It’s _scary_.”

“I know.” The blonde turned her attention back to the TV screen, reciting along with the movie, “So if you’re from Africa, why are you white?” After pausing for a moment, Cosette realised out loud, “Drink!”

They had finished all the drinks Musichetta had laid out for them by the end of the movie, all four of them completely plastered, and Éponine quickly found that Cosette was a clingy drunk, latching onto Éponine’s arm as they jumped up and down, badly singing along to the songs in _Mamma Mia!_ after Musichetta put it on for all of them, their screechy singing filling the apartment, and Éponine was almost certain that the neighbours would probably be filing several noise complaints when morning came, but in that moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to care, choosing to drunkenly sing along to ABBA with the other girls, the four of them absolutely wasted.

“Honey, honey, how he thrills me, a-ha, honey, honey!” they hollered out for the whole world to hear, nearly falling over as they laughed hysterically in between verses. Cosette eventually jumped up on the sofa to bounce up and down, loudly singing along to the music.

“I’ve heard about him before!” She conducted the others in singing backup, belting out the lyrics, “I wanted to know some more! And now I know what they mean, he’s a love machine!” Squealing happily, she sang out, “Oh, he makes me dizzy!”

As the movie went on, the four women drunk off their asses and badly singing to ABBA, fleeting thoughts of what Enjolras and the others were up to at the moment crossed Éponine’s mind every now and then, and as she screamed along to “Dancing Queen”, she wondered what the boys were up to right at that very second.

* * *

“And I don’t want the world to see me, ’cause I don’t think that they’d understand! When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am!”

Enjolras yelled out the lyrics into the microphone as the rest of the men cheered him on, his alcohol-fuelled energy at an all-time high for the first time in what felt like forever. He had quickly gotten drunk after downing an entire bottle of whiskey as well as a tall glass of straight rum, his head spinning in circles as he was talked into singing for all of them despite how terrible of an idea it was, especially since he was a _godawful_ singer when drunk. Apparently, he was excellent at singing when sober, according to Éponine, and during the one long-ass instrumental break in between verses in the song, he shouted into the microphone rather petulantly, “Fuck, I miss Éponine!”

“Drink!” Courfeyrac hollered, the others proceeding to chug at yet another mention of Éponine from Enjolras; all the boys had lost count by this point, Enjolras mentioned her so often as the night went on. The blond couldn’t help it—he missed his fiancée and was wondering what the hell she was up to right now as he neared the end of his dreadful rendition of “Iris”, the others whooping and cheering for him as he hollered for another song to be put on, calling Courfeyrac up to sing along with him. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey Grantaire readily provided for him from below the little karaoke stage, Enjolras readily took another swig as the others chanted, “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!”

Soon enough, Enjolras and Courfeyrac were shouting in unison, “’Cause everytime we touch, I get this feeling, and everytime we kiss, I swear I could fly!”

“Can’t you feel my heart beat fast?” Enjolras yelled out.

“I want this to last!” Courfeyrac screeched into the microphone.

“Need you by my side!” they hollered together, jumping up and down to the fast-paced electronic music as the others cheered them on.

The two of them put their arms around each other’s shoulders, jumping up and down together and loudly singing in unison, “’Cause everytime we touch, I feel the static, and everytime we kiss, I reach for the sky! Can’t you hear my heart beat so? I can’t let you go! Want you in my life!”

One minute into the song, Jehan got up on a table and started dancing, the others cheering as Enjolras and Courfeyrac continued wailing out the lyrics while Jehan danced on the table, looking as if he was on the verge of falling over. About a minute later, Jehan really _did_ fall over, Grantaire catching him in record time despite the fact that he was drunk as hell as well, carrying him off to place him on a sofa for a bit so the ginger could recover.

Enjolras chugged whiskey in between songs, proceeding to sing “Sweet Caroline”, “Happy Together”, “Creep”, and appropriately enough, “Death of a Bachelor”, and he could barely see straight once he was finished with that last song, his head throbbing. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? Passing the whiskey bottle to Feuilly, Enjolras took hold of the microphone and shouted out, “Guys! Shush, shush, shush, my head hurts, shut up!”

They all quieted down as best as they could as Enjolras closed his eyes and took a deep breath after placing the mic on the mic stand, reaching up to rub his temples before he opened his eyes and grabbed the microphone with both hands once again, shouting out, “I’m getting fucking _married_ to my _best friend_ , guys!”

“Hell yeah!” many of the Amis hollered in response, raising their glasses to him in a toast before chugging their drinks.

“God, I can’t fucking wait!” Enjolras continued, becoming even more hyped up and losing himself in the moment as he yelled giddily into the microphone, “Straight people and idiots are always talking about how marriage is a trap and how you should get out of it while you still can and shit, but I definitely don’t see marriage as that! Those people are _fools_ if they think marriage is nothing but a trap; I, for one, can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with my ’Ponine and our Victoire, and any other kids we may choose to have in the future!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Grantaire yelled, taking a shot of vodka.

“It’s my next big adventure!” Enjolras hollered, a loopy, shitfaced grin on his face. “Éponine and I are gonna—gonna grow old together, I can’t fucking wait to marry her! I love her so fucking much, so so so so so so so so so so so so so so much! She’s my best friend! The love of my life! I can’t believe we’re getting _married_ in a month! I’m going to be Gabriel Alexandre Enjolras-Thénardier!” Furrowing his brow and pausing for a bit, contemplating his words, he mumbled into the mic, “Wait. That’s not right.”

Bahorel cackled. “Damn right it isn’t. Isn’t she taking your name?”

“Oh, yeah!” The small reminder was enough to get Enjolras all fired up again and he had the most massive, idiotic grin on his face as he yelled, “I love Éponine so fucking much! We’re getting married! Marriage isn’t a fucking _trap_ , it’s gonna be—it’s gonna be the greatest adventure of my fucking life, and there’s nobody I’d rather spend it with than my ’Ponine!”

The others cheered as he grabbed his bottle of whiskey from Feuilly and chugged it all, the rest of them doing the same with their drinks, and his head was spinning even more by the time he had gulped down the last of the alcohol, the liquid burning his throat and setting his insides on fire. He whooped and called for another song to be put on, jumping around onstage as he began to sing along.

Soon enough, Jehan climbed up on a table and started dancing again, having been forced into drinking a glass of water beforehand by Combeferre, always the mom friend even when drunk, while Enjolras belted out the lyrics to “Run Away with Me”, jumping around to the lively music and having the time of his fucking life, his laughter ringing out through the bar.

“Baby, take me to the feeling!” he hollered, that giant grin, so rare when he was sober, ever present on his face. “I’ll be your sinner in secret when the lights go out!”

“Run away with me! Run away with me!” Joly and Bossuet sang out in unison, providing backup vocals from the dance floor, arms around each other, and dissolving into giggles once they had sang their bit. Up until Enjolras’ drunken speech, the pair had been making out off to the side on a couple of bar stools.

“Baby, every single minute, I’ll be your hero and win it when the lights go out!” Enjolras took the mic off the stand and started dancing around, letting loose and letting his body decide what to do with itself. The bouncy, jaunty music proved to be a great dance track as he danced around, not giving a shit that most of his friends were watching and Grantaire was almost definitely recording this; Enjolras danced his heart out, singing out the lyrics and laughing merrily in between verses.

It was six in the morning by the time they were all too drunk to walk in a straight line, Marius in particular stumbling each time he tried to get up and falling flat on his face at one point. Combeferre barely managed to talk Grantaire into calling Rachelle to come and drive them home, Grantaire passing out on a nearby table shortly after he finished his call with his sister. Enjolras was using up all of his willpower not to throw up then and there, willing himself not to throw up until he got home. Amazingly enough, all nine of them somehow still had their buttons pinned to their shirts, having gotten through the night without taking them off even once.

Rachelle Grantaire was none too pleased by the time she showed up to take their drunken asses home, Grantaire finally waking up once his sister arrived and mumbling happily, his words slurred beyond translation, “Aww, Rachey, Rachey, Rachey! Rach, you—you rescued us!” After a while, he slurred in confusion, “Where’s Toby? Rachey, what did—what did you do to my Toby?!”

“Get the fuck up, Raoul,” Rachelle told him sharply, kicking him in the shin. “Toby’s fine, he’s at my place. The rest of you, get in the van. I don’t want any of you throwing up while I’m driving, got it?”

Grantaire, having fallen out of his seat when Rachelle kicked him, got up off the grimy floor, rubbing his nose after having face-planted onto the ground. “So demanding,” he muttered, nearly tripping before Jehan caught his arm and helped him towards the door, stumbling over every now and then himself.

Bahorel was quick to call shotgun, leaving the others to file into the back seats of the van, grumbling among themselves as Bahorel looked smug as can be, buckling himself in while Rachelle got into the driver’s seat. Enjolras groaned and leaned against the window, his head throbbing painfully and bile threatening to rise up in his throat as his hand went to his mouth to keep himself from vomiting.

“Okay, who are we dropping off first?” Rachelle questioned briskly, looking in the rearview mirror at the men in the back seats. They were all, for the most part, pretty disoriented from all the alcohol they had drank that night, their answers mumbled and incoherent and often contradictory, words slurred together.

Rachelle sighed as they came to the first red light. “Boys, I can’t just drive with no destination.”

“I think we should—we should drop off Enjolras first,” Combeferre suggested, rather dazed. He was a spacey kind of drunk, not as eloquent as he typically was when sober and often losing his train of thought in the middle of a sentence after a few drinks, sometimes pausing mid-conversation. Clearing his throat as he was brought back to earth by Courfeyrac elbowing him in the side a bit too harshly, Combeferre quickly explained, “He looks like—like—he looks like he’s about to—he looks like he’s about to throw up.”

Rachelle’s green eyes zeroed in on Enjolras through the rearview mirror and she told him firmly, “You may be the groom, but don’t you dare throw up in this van, you hear me?”

“Mhmm,” Enjolras responded, groaning at the pounding in his head and cocking his head to the side as he observed Rachelle in the mirror—she and Grantaire both had green eyes, but unlike Grantaire’s raven black hair, Rachelle’s was golden brown, almost dirty blonde. Soon enough, Enjolras went back to staring out the window, barely managing to keep himself from barfing right then and there.

Miraculously enough, they managed to get Enjolras home without a single false alarm of him about to throw up, and after bidding the others goodbye, he stumbled up the concrete steps and opened the door, nearly falling inside and kicking his shoes off. He glimpsed Éponine, Cosette, Azelma, and Musichetta passed out all over the living room, wearing those robes the latter three had brought along, and before he could go over and wake them up, he felt the acid splash up his windpipe and he _knew_ he wouldn’t be able to hold in his vomit for much longer, so without further ado, he dashed to the bathroom and promptly hurled.

* * *

Enjolras woke up hours later with the most awful hangover, a painful throbbing in his head as late morning sunlight streamed in through the windows. He vaguely recalled how Éponine had come into the bathroom while he was throwing up and emptying his stomach of all he had drank the previous night, the brunette throwing up herself shortly after he was done, and from what little he remembered of what she had told him, she had called Cosette, Azelma, and Musichetta Ubers, sending them home before she went to him in the bathroom. He was rather startled to find that he was naked and in bed, Éponine clinging to him in her sleep and completely devoid of clothing as well, and he looked over the edge of the bed, feeling his cheeks burn at the sight of three used condoms on the rug. It was almost unnerving how closely this morning mirrored the morning after his twenty-fourth birthday, the morning after their daughter was conceived.

Éponine shifted in her sleep and her brown eyes slowly blinked open, her hand flying to her head once she was fully awake as she cursed under her breath. “Fuck,” she swore, wincing at the throbbing in her head.

Despite how fucking hungover he was, Enjolras rolled back to her side and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good morning,” he murmured.

“Good morning, my ass,” Éponine muttered in reply, making a face. “I’m hungover as _fuck_. Stop yelling.” Pausing to take a deep breath, she looked at them both, dazed and disoriented. “Why are we naked?”

“I think we had sex at some point before we passed out,” Enjolras mumbled, gesturing to the condoms on the floor by their bed. “And I’m not yelling, ’Ponine.”

Éponine reached down and winced, because yep, the space between her legs was definitely more than a little sore, letting her know that she and Enjolras indeed had sex earlier that morning. “At least we used condoms this time, right?”

Enjolras laughed half-heartedly and reached over to grab his phone off the nightstand, calling his mother and bringing the phone to his ear as Éponine curled into him, wrapping the blankets tighter around them. “Mother?” Enjolras mumbled hoarsely once Angela picked up the phone.

 _“What is it, sweet pea?”_ Angela chirped at the other end; Enjolras could vaguely hear Victoire singing along to what sounded like _Moana_ in the background.

“Can you keep Victoire with you until tonight?” Enjolras requested, groaning at that now-familiar throbbing in his head. “’Ponine and I—we’re both really hungover.”

“Hella hungover!” Éponine yelled over Enjolras’ shoulder, startling the shit out of him and nearly causing the phone to jerk out of his grasp at the sheer volume of her voice.

“Jesus Christ, ’Ponine,” Enjolras muttered before returning to the phone call. “Yeah, we both feel terrible, it’ll take a while for us to get rid of these hangovers. Can Victoire stay with you for a little while more?”

 _“Oh, of course!”_ Angela responded lightly. _“It’s no problem, really. You just do what you have to do, I’ll be back with Victoire at six. Or is that too soon?”_

Enjolras glanced at the glaring red digits on the clock, seeing that it was currently eleven thirty-eight in the morning and blinking repeatedly at how damn _bright_ the numbers were. “I think six o’clock would be just fine, yeah,” he mumbled groggily.

 _“Okay, I’ll be there with Victoire then,”_ Angela told him cheerfully. _“Feel better soon!”_

Enjolras thought Angela was about to hang up just then when he heard her say in the distance, _“What is it, Victoire? I’m on the phone with your daddy, do you want to talk to him?”_ Enjolras heard Angela return to the phone just then and say, _“Put the phone on speaker, Victoire wants to talk to you!”_

Enjolras did as he was told, Éponine nearly falling out of the bed when they heard Victoire yell happily through the phone, _“Hi, Daddy!”_

Despite herself, Éponine mustered a groggy smile at the sound of her and Enjolras’ daughter’s voice, rubbing at her eye with a fist. “You’re talking real loud, Peanut,” she mumbled, yawning and squeezing her eyes shut.

 _“Mommy!”_ Victoire squealed at the sound of Éponine’s sleepy voice, and Enjolras chuckled despite his terrible hangover, the mental image of Victoire jumping up and down coming to mind.

Éponine curled into Enjolras and laid her head on his bare chest, murmuring into the phone speaker, “Hi, baby, how are you doing with Nana?”

 _“Good!”_ Victoire replied happily, followed by some incomprehensible words.

“We’ll see you tonight, okay?” Enjolras told her, his words just slightly slurred. “We love you, Victoire.”

 _“Love you too, Daddy,”_ Victoire responded, slowly and carefully enunciating the words. _“Love you, Mommy.”_

“I love you too, Vicky,” Éponine replied, smiling at the sound of Victoire saying that. “Mommy and Daddy are really, really tired right now so we need to hang up, okay? We’ll see you tonight, Peanut.”

 _“Bye-bye, Mommy! Bye-bye, Daddy!”_ Victoire enthusiastically bid them both goodbye before Angela hung up, and Enjolras placed his phone back on the nightstand before his head fell back against the pillows and a long, low groan escaped his throat.

“God, I got so fucking trashed last night,” he muttered, reaching up to rub his temple in an attempt to soothe his throbbing headache. He didn’t remember much of his bachelor party—he mostly remembered singing his heart out, taking too many shots to count and chugging whiskey, and Jehan dancing on tables—but he had that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that there were numerous videos to commemorate it. Said videos were probably on the Amis’ group chat right now.

“Likewise,” Éponine mumbled, closing her eyes to try and relieve herself of the pain. After a few moments of blissful silence, Enjolras spoke again.

“We should probably put on some clothes,” he murmured.

Éponine whined petulantly, sticking out her bottom lip. “Can’t we just sleep it off?”

“What do you say to getting shawarma for breakfast?” Enjolras suggested softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We can go buy some from a street vendor and then we can come back here.”

“You had me at shawarma, pretty boy.” Éponine groaned and rolled over in bed, yelping when she rolled right off, and Enjolras was quick to sit up despite how much it hurt his head to do so, blue eyes wide with concern as he looked over the edge to find Éponine lying there on the carpeted floor, her face contorted in discomfort.

“You okay?” he asked worriedly.

Éponine let out a pained moan and sat up, rubbing her head. “Was the floor always there?”

When Enjolras didn’t respond to her question, which he assumed was rhetorical, Éponine asked blearily, “So what did you guys end up doing for your stag night?”

“They took me to that karaoke bar you guys all dragged me to for my twenty-fourth,” Enjolras replied, the room only now starting to stop spinning. “They said it was because that was where things first started between us. We wouldn’t have Victoire and be engaged right now if you guys hadn’t dragged me there almost three years ago, they said, and I guess they’re right.”

“Ha, noice,” Éponine commented, a grin playing at her lips as she grabbed the edge of the bed and slowly stood up, stumbling slightly when she did and looking down at herself at the realisation that she was still naked. Looking towards the closet doors, she murmured, “What do you say to a glass of water?”

Enjolras slid out of bed and stood up beside her, the two of them just standing there and staring at the closet door. “A glass of water would probably be in our best interest right now.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tend to picture laura dreyfuss as rachelle, and [here](https://www.drinkiwiki.com/Mean_Girls) is where i got that mean girls drinking game from!


	11. Chapter XI

* * *

Éponine wondered if any of her bridesmaids could hear her retching in her and Enjolras’ bedroom from down the hall. She must have sounded like a nightmare, what with all her groaning and the wet chunks of vomit hitting the bottom of the garbage bin.

Looking up, she stared at her pallid complexion in the mirror once she had wiped her mouth and tossed the napkins stained with vomit into the bin. She briefly wondered if she was pregnant again; it had been the third time she hurled in that day alone, and she was nauseous as fuck, having failed to keep anything down since she woke up, unable to stomach anything despite Cosette’s incessant fretting about how Éponine needed food in her system lest she pass out. That morning, she had actually taken two pregnancy tests for good measure—it seemed that Enjolras’ frantic need to triple-check everything had rubbed off on her a bit—and it turned out she wasn’t pregnant again after all once she saw that both tests had come out negative. This was all the product of her nerves alone.

Fuck, her nerves were _killing_ her.

It was afternoon, the clock striking one just then, and Éponine knew she and the other women—and Victoire—would have to leave for Central Park in just fifteen minutes, having rented a limousine to take them to Cherry Hill. She was a tad bit concerned—anxiety had never made her actually physically ill before, but she pushed it all away. This was probably the second time in her lifetime she had ever been anxious to _this_ level, after all, the first time being when she was sitting in that delivery room suffering through contractions in order to give birth to Victoire.

At least her makeup hadn’t been ruined.

She had made sure the carpet was devoid of any blemishes before falling to her knees in front of the garbage bin to toss her cookies, and now, she looked at herself in the mirror, barely able to recognise the young woman staring back at her. She was nearly unrecognisable, with her incredible, immaculately done makeup and the diamonds in her ears. The mirror was full length and Éponine turned to and fro to observe herself, hardly able to believe that this was her, this was really her, that this was really happening.

She slowly did a full 360 in front of the mirror, looking at herself. Eyes wandering to the plunging back. The subtle lace boat-neck overlay over the strapless sweetheart-neckline underskirt, elegant sleeves of lace reaching her wrists. The skirt of layered tulle, creating a ball-gown silhouette and tapering off into a simple, yet elegant court train. The fingertip-length bridal illusion veil tucked under her intricate low-set updo, a few small white roses woven into her dark hair. The shining silver locket resting against her chest, catching light and showing off the intricate carvings. And, of course, the engagement ring on her finger.

Éponine had never particularly wanted to be a princess when she was younger, but at that moment, she couldn’t help but feel like she _was_ one.

And she was excited.

 _Extremely_ excited.

After all they had been through together, she was finally— _finally_ —getting married to Enjolras.

She was thinking about how she was going to be Éponine _Thénardier_ for only a few hours more at this point as she gazed at herself in the mirror just as she heard a knock at the door, turning around at the sound to see Azelma poking her head inside. The younger Thénardier sister walked inside, the chiffon skirt of her wine-red bridesmaid dress swishing between her legs, and a little smile was on the redhead’s face, a single dimple visible in her left cheek.

“You okay?” Azelma asked softly, walking up to Éponine. “We leave in ten minutes. Vicky’s getting cranky. She wants you.”

“I’ll be out in a bit,” Éponine replied. “I just… wow. I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe what?” Azelma prompted, taking her sister’s hands in her own.

“I’m getting _married_ , Zel,” Éponine murmured, laughing breathlessly once the words were out of her mouth. “I just… I just want to see ’Jolras.”

“You will,” Azelma promised. “But you won’t be able to see him unless you get your ass out of this room.”

Éponine laughed, feeling as if butterflies were attacking her insides, she was so fucking nervous. “I don’t really feel like myself. I keep wondering if that’s really me in the mirror.”

“It is,” Azelma confirmed for her, the two of them turning to look at themselves in the mirror—Éponine decked out in all white, Azelma clad in a deep shade of wine red, her auburn hair in a half-updo while Éponine’s deep brown locks were in a full one. “How do you feel?”

Éponine let out another breathless laugh, the butterflies in her stomach multiplying tenfold.

“Scared… Nervous… Jittery… Excited.” Éponine took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves, just staring at herself in the mirror. Honestly, she felt more shocked than anything. It was all so surreal—after everything she and Enjolras had gone through together, their wedding day had finally arrived. The day was finally here. “I’m getting fucking _married_ ,” she whispered, mostly to herself. She wasn’t scared of getting married, per se—she certainly wasn’t hesitant about it—it was just everything that came with the word ‘marriage’ that set her on edge.

She was about to become Mrs. Éponine Amélie _Enjolras_.

“Come on.” Azelma’s hand slipped into Éponine’s and the next thing she knew, she was being pulled out of the bedroom and into the hallway to find Cosette, Musichetta, and Victoire in the living room. “The limo’s going to be here any minute now, it’s probably best that we go. Doesn’t the ceremony start at two fifteen?”

Éponine nodded slowly, wondering how she was going to get through the ceremony without throwing up all over Enjolras just as Musichetta and Cosette turned when Victoire exclaimed joyfully, “Mommy!”

Cosette’s big blue eyes widened when she laid eyes on Éponine and the blonde began to tear up. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Doesn’t your mommy look like a princess, Vicky?” Musichetta took the little girl’s hand and Victoire giggled, nodding.

“I’m so nervous, guys,” Éponine admitted, mustering a smile. “God, I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Well, you better believe it, because the limo’s just arrived,” Azelma told them all, glancing out the window.

Éponine’s stomach lurched. “Already?!”

“Come on, let’s go get you married!” Cosette cheered, Musichetta holding Victoire’s hand as Azelma opened the door and they all stepped out into the cool early autumn air, leaves in all shades of red and orange and gold, the five of them beginning to walk down the steps, Éponine’s heart pounding in her chest.

But despite it all, she was so, so excited.

Before they stepped into the limousine, Éponine stopped and softly murmured with a little smile, “Let’s go get me married.”

“That’s the spirit!” Musichetta whooped, pumping a fist into the air as Cosette helped Victoire into the limousine before following shortly after, stepping inside. Azelma helped Éponine gather her skirt before stepping inside the limo, and Éponine took one last look at the townhouse. The next time she and Enjolras came back to their apartment, they’d be husband and wife.

Éponine shivered with excitement as the chauffeur began to drive, whisking them off to Central Park.

This was it.

She was getting fucking _married_.

* * *

Enjolras paced back and forth in front of the floral arbour decked out with roses of all different colours, white chiffon curtains drawn back, and despite the cool autumn breeze, he could feel himself sweating buckets under his tuxedo, fidgeting slightly with the boutonnière that had been pinned onto the lapel earlier. The ceremony would be beginning any moment now, as soon as Christine, the wedding planner, got the alert that Éponine, Victoire, and the bridesmaids had arrived, and he couldn’t help but wring his hands as he paced back and forth in the grass, the officiant staring at him with an odd look in his dark eyes.

The rest of the Amis—his _groomsmen_ , God, this was all so surreal—were all helping the guests into their seats, directing them towards their assigned seats as Enjolras paced back and forth, back and forth, his nerves beginning to overtake him. His parents were there already, sitting up front on the right side of the aisle with the seat next to Angela having been left empty for Victoire, and Enjolras stopped pacing at last, watching Cosette’s father Mr. Fauchelevent and Javert taking their seats in the front row on the left side of the aisle with Aimée and Adrien in their laps, Aimée wearing a little baby-blue dress and Adrien a little blue suit that matched Aimée’s dress, Rachelle Grantaire taking a seat in the front row of the left side as well after being escorted there by her brother.

Enjolras would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t nervous, but as nervous as he was, that didn’t erase the fact that he was excited.

Oh, so excited.

After all this time, after everything he and Éponine had been through together, first as simply friends and then as a couple, they were actually, _finally_ getting married.

Honestly, he wondered how the hell they had managed to get through over a year of planning and being engaged without giving up and eloping, but he was glad that they had made it—Cherry Hill looked beautiful this time of year, the leaves in varying shades of gold and red and orange and providing a gorgeous backdrop for a Central Park wedding; he was dressed to the nines and knew Éponine would be as well, his tuxedo perfectly pressed and his golden curls immaculate. He watched his friends escorting guests to their seats, the photographers and videographers setting up their cameras as Christine spoke into her little communication device to her assistant Meg, briskly walking about the venue to make sure everything was perfectly in place.

Enjolras was rearranging his bowtie out of nerves when Combeferre approached him at the arbour, asking quietly, “You okay? Ready to get married?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Enjolras let out a huffy sigh, craning his neck as he looked off in the distance, wondering when his bride, their daughter, and the bridesmaids would be arriving. “I don’t know…” He trailed off, the blood draining from his face.

“Hey.” Combeferre placed a reassuring hand on the skittish groom’s shoulder, turning his head to meet Enjolras’ blue eyes. “Of course you don’t _know_ , but you’re getting married to one of the best people we know. She’s your best friend and the love of your life, isn’t she?” When Enjolras nodded feebly, Combeferre continued, “I don’t think anyone is ever really completely ready for marriage, but you two love each other. Anyone can see how much you two love each other and how much you both love Victoire. You’re going to go out there and have the time of your life, and at the end of the day, it’ll be just you, Gabriel Enjolras, with Éponine as Mrs. Éponine Enjolras and your daughter. Sounds good?”

Enjolras nodded, more confidently, and Combeferre patted him on the back just as Christine walked up to them, listening to Meg through her earpiece. “They’ve just arrived in the park,” Christine informed them both. “They’re on their way here.”

Enjolras began to sweat once again, feeling as if his lungs had been robbed of air as he muttered rapidly, “How am I supposed to get through this without throwing up, ’Ferre? What if I fuck things up?”

“Hey, hey, hey, what did I just tell you?” Combeferre firmly grabbed both of Enjolras’ shoulders to steady the golden-haired man, looking him in the eye. “You’re not going to fuck things up. I know you don’t really believe in soulmates, but trust me, that’s what you and Éponine are, and you’re going to crush this marriage thing. You ready to get married?”

After considering it for a while, Enjolras answered at last, “Yes. I’ve been waiting for this day for a really long time now.”

“Then you’ll be just fine,” Combeferre told him, patting him on the back. “It’s your big day. You’re getting _married_.”

Enjolras smiled at the verbal reminder. “I’m getting married,” he repeated.

“Hell yeah, you’re getting married!” Courfeyrac popped up out of seemingly nowhere, clad in a tuxedo matching Enjolras’ and Combeferre’s, with Louis happily perched on his shoulders, the nineteen-month-old toddler pulling at Courfeyrac’s curls. A big grin was on the dark-haired man’s face as he bounced up and down, Louis laughing on his shoulders, and Courfeyrac told Enjolras, “You’re marrying your best friend soon!”

“What do you mean, ‘soon’?” Enjolras asked in alarm, looking around like a deer caught in headlights.

“It’s two o’clock, the ceremony will be starting in fifteen minutes,” Combeferre told Enjolras, stealing a glance at his watch.

Courfeyrac grinned at Enjolras as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, sending Louis into a fit of giggles. “And to think, we’re all here because you rawed your dream girl almost three years ago and knocked her up,” he commented, cackling at the look of disturbance on Enjolras’ face.

“You probably could have phrased it in a less vulgar way,” he muttered, cheeks burning as he looked down at his feet. “But yes, I guess that’s the gist of it.”

Courfeyrac laughed, and he and Louis looked off in the distance before Louis let out a delighted cry. “Mamamamama!”

Courfeyrac turned back to the other two men with a sparkle in his dark eyes. “Looks like the girls are here. If you’ll excuse me, I’ma go find my girlfriend. Louis wants his mama, I think.”

Enjolras watched as Courfeyrac stalked off to find Azelma with Louis on his shoulders, his stomach twisting in knots as the start of the ceremony drew closer with each passing moment. He craned his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of the women, his efforts proving to be unsuccessful, and eventually he admitted defeat and resigned himself to just standing there under the arbour, biting his lip and wringing his hands out of sheer nerves.

Combeferre glanced sideways and his brow furrowed in concern. “You’re sweating.”

“You think?” Enjolras rocked back and forth on his feet, anxious and yet impatient for the ceremony to start, willing himself not to throw up out of nerves right then and there. “God, I’m so nervous.”

“You’ll do just fine,” Combeferre reassured him, rubbing his back.

Enjolras turned his head to look at his best man. “Do you have the rings?”

Combeferre lifted the small velvet box in his left hand so Enjolras could see. “Right here.”

Enjolras exhaled, readjusting his bowtie once again. “Okay. I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Combeferre echoed, confident. “You’ll knock ’em dead.”

The next fifteen minutes were a blur before Enjolras’ eyes—he stood there under the flowery arbour with the officiant as the last of the guests arrived, filling up the seats until there was only one left up front for Victoire to sit in, and he thought he might have spaced out a bit because the next thing he knew, Combeferre was up there at the altar with him, the officiant standing behind them right under the arbour, and the bespectacled man was whispering to Enjolras, “We’re just about to start, it’ll only be two more minutes.”

Enjolras closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Two more minutes before the ceremony would start.

When the pianist began to play the intro to the gentle piano arrangement of “A Thousand Years, Pt. 2”, Enjolras almost felt as if his heart was going to explode, it was pounding so hard and fast, blood rushing in his ears.

He managed to calm his breathing as he watched the Amis file down the aisle one by one, taking their place beside Enjolras. His blue eyes were fixed on the tasteful decor of the venue, deep red flower petals scattered along the edge of the aisle, and when Cosette began to make her way down the aisle, Enjolras looked back up, anxious to see Éponine, biting his lip. Musichetta followed shortly after, taking her sweet time in walking down the aisle with a small bouquet of roses in hand, before Azelma began to make her way down the aisle. Several people cooed when Toby the Yorkie began to trot gaily down the aisle, dressed in the little tuxedo he had had on at Marius and Cosette’s wedding and carrying the decoy rings on a little pillow fitted into a basket that he held from his mouth, and Enjolras couldn’t help but smile, his chest swelling with pride, when Victoire followed, a dimpled million-watt smile on her little face as she skipped down the aisle while tossing flower petals from her little basket, her dark eyes lighting up at the sight of her father up front. She happily skipped down the aisle before reaching the end and going to stand beside Angela in her front seat right beside the aisle just as all the guests rose to their feet, alerting Enjolras and the wedding party that the bride was to be making her entrance soon.

When Éponine appeared arm in arm with Gavroche, Enjolras’ breath caught in his throat.

He couldn’t help the tears stinging at his eyes and slightly blurring his vision as the corners of his lips tugged upwards in a small, soft smile at the sight of his bride slowly making her way down the aisle, a rosy blush on her cheeks and a soft, dimpled smile gracing her lips, her brown-eyed gaze fixed on him and him alone. Enjolras could vaguely hear Jehan bawling his eyes out to the side but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, the only thing on his mind being the perfect woman walking down the aisle towards him in that beautiful white dress, a bouquet of white and pale pink roses in hand.

Éponine.

His best friend.

The love of his life.

His _everything_.

And as of right now, his _bride_.

Enjolras let a single tear escape his eye as Éponine drew closer to him, hardly able to believe that this was really happening. This was seriously happening. They were actually getting married.

Once she had reached the arbour and given her little brother a hug, Éponine took a few more steps towards Enjolras once she had handed off her bouquet to Azelma with a little smile on her face, dark eyes sparkling with wonder and hope and unconditional love, and once she had reached him, she whispered, “Hey.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, a goofy smile of utter amazement on his face, Enjolras breathed in reply, “Hi.”

* * *

Éponine stared out the limousine window as the streets of Manhattan raced past, her nerves multiplying tenfold the closer they got to Central Park. The butterflies in her stomach were practically destroying her insides at this point, ruthlessly dancing about in her stomach and only succeeding in making her even more nervous than before. All she could focus on was calming her breathing as the others chatted between themselves throughout the whole ride, Victoire constantly pestering Éponine with half-comprehensible questions about what was going on. All Éponine could think about was how her stomach was in knots, her nerves making her break out in a cold sweat, completely tongue-tied and rendering her speechless, unable to answer any of her daughter’s questions despite how much Victoire kept shaking her arm, demanding answers.

Feeling that familiar wave of nausea hit her once again, she quickly grabbed the water bottle Cosette had thought to bring for them and chugged, sighing in relief when she felt the cool water slide down her throat, making her feel more awake than ever. Inhaling and exhaling deeply once she put down the water bottle, she returned to staring out the window, biting her lip apprehensively as the streets zoomed past, the chauffeur quietly letting them know that they’d be arriving at Central Park soon and making Éponine feel even queasier, the butterflies in her stomach even more ruthless than before.

Noticing the bride’s slight distress, Cosette reached out to take Éponine’s hand from across her, giving it a gentle squeeze and asking in concern, “You okay? How do you feel?”

Éponine let out a laugh that sounded crazy even to her own ears, nervous beyond belief. “God, I’m just so… I’m so nervous, Cosette, I swear I’m not getting cold feet, but God, how did you get through this without puking? How did you even survive your own wedding?”

“I barely got through it alive,” Cosette admitted softly. “I was crying a lot and wondering whether or not I was completely ready to make that big of a commitment. Don’t you remember?”

Éponine thought back to Marius and Cosette’s wedding, her brow furrowed in confusion. “No, I don’t think I do,” she replied at last, sheepish as her brown eyes found Cosette’s blue. “Wasn’t that the day I fainted? I was really lightheaded, all I could think about was Vicky over here.” Éponine put an arm loosely around her daughter’s shoulders and Victoire giggled at the gesture, leaning into her mother’s side.

“Well, regardless of that, I was just as nervous as you are right now,” Cosette told her, giving Éponine’s hand another squeeze. “But it’ll all be worth it, Eppy. It’ll be so, so worth it. This is going to be one of the happiest days of your life, right up there with the day Victoire was born.” Cosette beamed at Éponine and gave the brunette’s hand yet another reassuring squeeze, reminding her, “You’re going to be Mrs. Éponine Enjolras, Eppy! Aren’t you excited for that?”

Éponine’s lips slowly stretched out into a smile at the reminder, nodding. “I guess I am, yeah. Yeah, I’m really excited.”

“Then don’t doubt yourself,” Cosette told her. “You’re going to do just fine, Eppy.”

As if on cue, the limousine halted to a stop, and one look out the window quickly informed them that they had arrived at Central Park. The wedding planner Christine’s assistant Meg and Gavroche, dressed in his tuxedo, were waiting outside for them, and the chauffeur got out of the car to open the door for the four women and Victoire. Éponine froze when her bridesmaids began to step out, Victoire happily following, and it wasn’t until Azelma poked her head back inside the limo that Éponine snapped out of it, dark eyes widening as she stepped out of the limousine into the cool autumn air. She immediately went over to Gavroche, her breathing rather erratic as she listened to Meg alert Christine through a communication device, the other women standing by them with Azelma holding Victoire’s hand.

“Hey, Gav,” Éponine greeted in a low voice, forcing herself into taking a deep breath to calm herself down.

“Hey.” Gavroche took his older sister’s hand and gave it a squeeze, relieving her worries somewhat. “You excited?”

Éponine nodded without hesitation, biting her lip. “Yeah. Really nervous too, though.”

“Hey, you’ll be fine.” Gavroche let go of her hand to put his arm around her, and for once, Éponine didn’t feel annoyed at the fact that he had long since outgrown her. “You’re getting married, Ep, I guess it’s completely normal to be nervous. I remember Marius throwing up a lot when _he_ was getting married.”

“I threw up a lot this morning too, actually,” Éponine admitted sheepishly. “I just want to see Enjolras.”

“And you’ll see him soon,” Gavroche told her, dropping his arm from around her. “We have fifteen minutes to get to Cherry Hill, we should probably get going now.”

Indeed, Meg soon told them that they should start moving, and so Éponine linked her arm with Gavroche’s as they began to walk, Victoire skipping happily at her side in her little pink dress, and before they knew it, Cherry Hill was coming into sight and Éponine’s stomach lurched at the sight of all the guests already seated, her nerves multiplying tenfold. She stopped in her tracks once she was ten feet away from the venue, watching as Musichetta jogged up to Joly and Bossuet while Cosette went over to Marius, the both of them going to see their twins up in the front row, Courfeyrac making his way over to Azelma with little Louis riding on his shoulders. Éponine forced herself into taking deep breaths, out of sight from the rest of them, her free hand going up to her locket to fidget nervously with it as she tended to do.

“You okay there?” Gavroche asked when Éponine unlinked her arm with his, turning his head sideways to stare down at her, his brow furrowed in concern.

“It’s just…” Éponine let out a breathless laugh, awed and rather overwhelmed as she fully came to terms with how this was happening. This was really, actually happening. “It’s just hitting me all at once. Everything. This is actually happening.”

“Ready to get married?” Gavroche questioned, cocking his head sideways.

Éponine nodded, still trying to completely wrap her head around it. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Éponine felt Victoire tugging slightly at the skirt of her dress and looked down at the little blonde girl as Victoire scrunched up her face. “Mommy?”

“What is it, Peanut?” Éponine asked lightly, taking her daughter’s hand.

“What’s hap’ning?” Victoire asked, making Éponine smile at the way she said the words, careful and pronounced.

“Mommy and Daddy are getting married, Vicky,” Éponine told her softly, giving Victoire’s pudgy little hand a squeeze. “Ready to be our flower girl?”

Victoire’s face lit up with a dimpled smile, dark eyes shining. “Yeah!”

Éponine couldn’t help but smile at her daughter, overwhelmed by just how much she loved her, this perfect little girl who was half her and half Enjolras, living proof of their love. Well, kind of. Actually, not really, now that Éponine really thought about it, considering how Victoire was conceived months before Éponine and Enjolras actually got together, the result of what had initially been a drunken one-night stand between two close friends. Oh, well. In amusement, she supposed it didn’t make much of a difference now.

“You’re going to be coming in after Toby, okay?” Éponine told Victoire. “Toby’s going to walk down the aisle with the rings, and then you’ll come in. Can we do that, Peanut?”

Victoire nodded, beaming up at her mother and making Éponine melt. “Okay, then, it’s going to start soon. Get ready, okay, baby?”

Victoire nodded once again before looking around happily at her surroundings, clutching her little basket full of deep red rose petals for her to toss down the aisle later on. Éponine let go of Victoire’s hand and turned back to Gavroche, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

“I can do this,” she whispered to herself.

“You can do this,” Gavroche echoed, giving Éponine a hug, which she gladly returned. “You’ll be fine, Ep.”

The next ten minutes rushed past before Éponine could even wrap her head around the fact that this was it, her big day, she was getting fucking _married_ to Enjolras, and before she could even realise it, the pianist had begun to play a piano arrangement of the song she was to be walking down the aisle to as Christine, the wedding planner, handed Éponine her bouquet of roses. Her breath hitched as she watched the boys starting to make their way down the aisle one by one, dressed to the nines in their tuxedos, and then Cosette was walking down the aisle, followed by Musichetta, before Azelma made her entrance, the three of them clutching small bouquets. Éponine watched from the side as Toby trotted down the aisle, wearing his little doggie tuxedo, with the decoy rings in a basket, and she couldn’t help but smile when Victoire started skipping down the aisle, beaming at the guests and tossing rose petals, and as the little blonde girl was nearing the end of the aisle, Gavroche lightly nudged Éponine, whispering, “We’re on.”

Éponine’s dark eyes widened when all the guests rose to their feet and Gavroche was pulling her out into sight, quickly catching up and taking her time in walking down the aisle with her brother. She was sure she had stopped breathing, all eyes on her as a fierce blush coloured her cheeks, and the place looked _beautiful_ , something out of a dream, with rose petals scattered all the way down the aisle and the arbour up in the front decorated with all sorts of flowers, the red and gold leaves of the trees of Cherry Hill lazily drifting down to the forest green grass and the afternoon sunlight bouncing off the rippling water of the reservoir in the background providing a breathtaking backdrop. Éponine wasn’t really one to believe in fairytales, never having believed prior to this that this sort of thing would ever happen to her, but if she did?

This was it. This was her fairytale.

Her brown eyes found Enjolras’ blue and she couldn’t help the small smile that instantly appeared on her face at the sight of him, her almost husband, keeping her eyes on him the entire time as she walked down the aisle, arm in arm with her brother. A soft, affectionate smile graced Enjolras’ lips as he kept his eyes locked with Éponine’s, and as she drew closer, she could see how his blue eyes had gone glassy. She was certain her cheeks had gone scarlet, what with everyone’s eyes on her, but in that moment, she realised she didn’t care, the only thing that mattered to her at the moment being Enjolras.

Tears of joy were pricking at her eyes and she made no effort to blink them back as she finally reached the front, unlinking her arm with Gavroche’s and turning to face her little brother, throwing her arms around him in an unexpected embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear as he hugged her back.

By the time Éponine had let go of him, Gavroche seemed to have tears in his eyes as he locked eyes with his sister. His oldest sister, who had never given up on him through the years. “I’m so happy for you, Ep,” he murmured, reaching up to wipe away his tears. “Go knock ’em dead.”

Éponine smiled up at him and handed off her bouquet to Azelma before she stepped up to Enjolras, blushing at the look of utter amazement on his face as he gazed at her as if she was the moon, a single tear sliding down his cheek. “Hey,” she whispered, smiling at him.

Enjolras let out a breathy laugh as he turned to face her, breathing out in reply, “Hi.”

He was her knight in shining armour. Her rock. Her support. Her best friend and the love of her life.

Gazing into his shining blue eyes now, she wondered why she had ever been so afraid of this. She wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with him, and she wanted the rest of her life to start as quickly as humanly possible.

Enjolras took her hands in his and Éponine could feel how his palms were a tad bit sweaty, but she knew hers were as well, and he gave her hands a squeeze as he kept his eyes fixed on hers, never breaking eye contact, blue eyes glassy with tears. Her face flushed red under the weight of his gaze, but she couldn’t help but tear up at the way he was smiling at her, like she was his everything, and she was more than eager to return his smile, wondering if he could hear how her heart was pounding wildly in her chest as the officiant cleared his throat, beginning the ceremony.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

Éponine and Enjolras paid no heed to the seemingly endless warbling of the officiant, never focusing for almost the entirety of the ceremony, and they simply gazed into each other’s eyes, hardly able to believe that they had made it to this point. They had really made it. They were definitely no longer the college students they had been when they first met and formed an odd, tentative friendship, and no longer the people they had been when they first got together when he was twenty-four and she twenty-three, but they were still just as madly in love, having stuck with each other through thick and thin. Éponine could hardly believe how drastically their lives had changed almost three years ago, but looking back on it now, she wouldn’t change how things had turned out for the world, even if they did do almost everything that came with a typical relationship completely backwards, what with her getting pregnant before he properly confessed his feelings to her and they got together, and then tackling parenthood before he even proposed, and now here they were, actually getting married.

If someone had told them three years ago that the fact that they’d sleep together on Enjolras’ twenty-fourth birthday and he’d end up impregnating Éponine would end up becoming the best thing that had ever happened to them, Enjolras probably would have passed out and Éponine never would have believed them.

And yet here they were.

They had a beautiful daughter and the most supportive group of friends anyone could ever want and almost everything had worked out in their favour, and now here they were, getting fucking _married_.

Enjolras knew he probably looked like an idiot for smiling so much as he kept his blue eyes on Éponine’s brown, and she was well aware of how she looked like a blushing, giggly mess as she gazed tenderly into his eyes, but they couldn’t help it. Enjolras couldn’t remember the last time he had ever been this happy if he ruled out getting to hold Victoire in his arms for the first time, and Éponine was unbelievably giddy, her eyes still on her almost husband’s as she ignored the sound of Jehan bawling his eyes out in the background. She was beaming up at her Enjolras, breathless and giddy, and he couldn’t help but smile back as the officiant droned on and on, still trying to completely wrap his head around the fact that this was happening.

After what felt like an eternity, they heard the officiant say, “Do you, Gabriel Alexandre Enjolras, take Éponine Amélie Thénardier to be your lawfully wedded wife, to cherish in love and in friendship, in sickness and in health, in strength and in weakness, in joy and in sorrow, to love her without reservation, freely and faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Enjolras instantly said without hesitation, blue eyes shining with tears as he gazed at his blushing bride.

Turning to Éponine, the officiant said, “Do you, Éponine Amélie Thénardier, take Gabriel Alexandre Enjolras to be your lawfully wedded husband, to cherish in love and in friendship, in sickness and in health, in strength and in weakness, in joy and in sorrow, to love him without reservation, freely and faithfully, today, tomorrow, and for as long as you both shall live?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Éponine could see how Grantaire was silently crying and dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief as she said, “I do.”

The officiant stifled a smile, going on, “May I now ask you to declare your marriage vows?”

Enjolras took a deep breath as he gave Éponine’s hands another squeeze, a soft smile lighting up his face as he gazed lovingly into her eyes. “’Ponine, I love you. You’re my anchor, my support, my partner in crime, but first and foremost, you’re my best friend and the love of my life. I believe in you and I will never stop believing in you, and come what may, I will never stop loving you no matter how awful things may get. I promise to always be by your side as your faithful husband and always be there to provide you with the love and support you absolutely deserve, and I promise I will never abandon you and our daughter.”

He stole a sideways glance at Victoire, who was sitting in the very front and swinging her legs as she beamed at her parents, Angela silently sobbing beside her as Antoine wiped at his eyes. Returning his gaze to Éponine, Enjolras continued, “I promise to always be open and honest with you, to hold you when you’re breaking at the seams, and I promise to love you through thick and thin, for better or for worse. I’ll never stop supporting you and everything you do, and I’ll never stop loving you. These past three years have been hard, but they’ve turned out to be the start of the greatest adventure of my life, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my everything, Éponine, and I will love you as long as we both shall live.”

Éponine was beginning to get choked up at Enjolras’ emotional declaration of love to her as she willed herself not to cry, replying, “I love you too, ’Jolras. I promise I’ll always stay by your side as your faithful wife, knowing you’ll always be my constant friend and my partner in all things in life.” After taking a pause, she laughed softly and continued, “You snuck up on me, Gabriel Enjolras—I fell in love with you when I least expected it, only realising that I had when I was almost four months pregnant with our Vicky and endlessly worrying about my parenting abilities while you constantly provided me with support and reassurance.”

Her gaze wandered to their daughter and she smiled at how Victoire had the biggest smile on her face, seeing nothing but Enjolras in that smile, and she returned her gaze to him, taking a deep breath and going on, “I never expected to fall so hard for you, but I did, and I wouldn’t take back any second of it. These past three years have completely changed my life for the better, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. If there’s one thing I know now, it’s that life is unpredictable—really unpredictable—but as long as we’re with the right people, we’ll be able to embrace that unpredictability and face it together, and you are, without a doubt, the right person for me. I promise to always stand by your side and to provide you with the love and support you need and deserve.” After a brief pause in which Enjolras gave her an expectant look, raising his eyebrows, she told him bluntly, “If you’re waiting for me to promise to stop stealing your hoodies, then tough luck, pretty boy, because I’m never going to stop.”

Enjolras snorted at the unexpected addition and Éponine could hear the wedding party giggling and sniggering behind them as she continued, “’Jolras, you’re the reason I believe in love, and I can’t thank you enough for that. From this moment on, I promise to always stand by you despite whatever life might throw at us, and I promise to love you, forever and always.”

Stealing a quick glance at the groomsmen, Éponine could see how many of them were clearly crying, Jehan blowing on his nose as discreetly as he could, and she was certain that her bridesmaids and Gavroche were doing the same behind her. The officiant then declared, “Let us now have the rings brought forward.”

Combeferre readily approached with the velvet box containing the rings in hand, handing it to the officiant, who went on, “These rings are the outward sign of your love and commitment to each other and they mark a new beginning, symbolising your journey together filled with love, laughter, tears, surprise, celebration, grief, and joy. They will remind you of who you are, where you’ve been, and where you are going, and as you wear them through time, they’ll reflect who you are as a couple as well as who you are as individuals. Let them be an ever-present reminder to you of each other and of the deep bond of faith, trust, and love that they represent. Gabriel, if you will.”

Enjolras took Éponine’s ring out of the small box and blinked back the impending tears as he lifted Éponine’s left hand, steadily holding her gaze and willing himself not to cry. He slid the ring onto Éponine’s finger, his hands shaking just slightly, holding her watery gaze.

“Éponine, if you will.”

Éponine’s heart swelled in her chest as she rapidly blinked back the oncoming tears while taking Enjolras’ ring out of the box, trembling with anticipation and holding his left hand as she fought back the tears in her eyes, sliding the ring onto his finger, teeth digging into her bottom lip, and she never took her eyes off of his.

After a pause, the officiant declared at last, “By the power vested in me by the city of New York, it is with honour and delight that I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

That was when Éponine really let the tears flow, just moments before Enjolras cradled her face in his large hands and leaned down to kiss her, Éponine reaching up and standing on tiptoe to do the same, her lips meeting his halfway, and she laughed and cried through the kiss as whoops and cheers erupted from the wedding party and the guests alike.

They were married.

They actually did it.

They actually got married.

Éponine tenderly rubbed the barely-there stubble on Enjolras’ jaw with her thumb as he caressed her cheek, kissing her as if his life depended on it, but all too soon, they were breaking apart, their faces mere inches from one another as they met each other’s eyes and laughed softly at the sight of the tears streaming down each other’s cheeks. Enjolras kept one hand on Éponine’s cheek, gently wiping away her tears with his thumb as he gazed into her eyes, a soft, giddy smile on his face as she beamed up at him, dimples carved into her cheeks. They could hear Victoire squealing and clapping in the background as the incessant cheering was reduced to nothing but background noise while they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Hey,” Éponine murmured, echoing her words—or, more accurately, word—from earlier.

Enjolras laughed, breathless, as he whispered amid the cheers, “Hi.”

The officiant smiled. “Dearly beloved, it is now my pleasure to present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Gabriel and Éponine Enjolras.”

Éponine let out a breathless laugh upon hearing those words coming out of the officiant’s mouth; somewhere behind her, she could hear Cosette giggling through her tears as Musichetta bawled and Azelma laughed, the rest of the Amis whooping and cheering while the guests clapped in delight. She couldn’t care less about how her cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much.

She was Mrs. Éponine Enjolras.

They were fucking _married_.

Impulsively, Éponine reached up to cup Enjolras’ face and stood on tiptoe to kiss him again, Enjolras caught off-guard for about a millisecond before he quickly, eagerly returned the kiss, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her waist as she moved her arms to wrap tightly around his neck. The whoops and hollers grew even louder as he kissed her passionately, and yeah, maybe having a tongue-filled kiss in a wedding ceremony was in poor taste, but neither of them could give two shits about it, not when they were this happy. Nothing could ruin this unbelievably perfect moment.

When they broke apart, Éponine whispered without any hesitation, “I love you.”

Enjolras couldn’t help the massive dorky grin from spreading across his face as he gazed at his wife (his _wife_!), blue eyes meeting brown. “I love you, too.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference: éponine’s [hair](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f9/11/70/f91170e6acdabfcd685ffc975f8515d3.jpg) and [wedding dress](https://www.instyledress.co.uk/uploads/product/2/J/2J047/elegant-ball-gown-boat-neckline-lace-tulle-backless-wedding-dress-1.jpg).
> 
> (it's june thirtieth where i am as i'm posting this, and coincidentally, it's vicky's birthday in-universe!! also, if you watch b99, can you tell that i was partly inspired by jake and amy’s vows fhdhdjshsksjfkdhskshdk)


	12. Chapter XII

As the guests began to depart for the Lighthouse for the reception, the wedding party stood on the hill for pictures, their backs to the reservoir so it could provide a gorgeous backdrop to the photographs, and the only time Éponine could remember being this happy was when she held Victoire in her arms for the first time after waking up from her ten-day coma on what felt like a million years ago. She was standing next to Enjolras, who had Victoire in his arms, and Azelma, Musichetta, Cosette, and Gavroche were standing to the other side of her while the rest of the Amis stood to the other side of Enjolras, Louis in Courfeyrac’s arms, Toby in Grantaire’s, Aimée in Marius’ and Adrien in Cosette’s, all of them beaming for the camera. After what felt like a million pictures, they were finally allowed to leave for the Lighthouse, breaking off into small groups as Éponine and Enjolras walked together, Enjolras holding Victoire.

“I can’t believe we got married,” Éponine remarked as they made their way to their waiting limousine, giddy beyond belief. “We’re _married_ , ’Jolras.”

Once they were sitting in the limousine together, Victoire in her little car seat across from them and singing some Disney song neither of her parents could quite name, Enjolras linked his arm with Éponine’s and pressed a kiss to his bride’s temple, seeming to have lost the ability to stop smiling. “My wife,” he murmured, awed at the fact that this was his reality now.

Éponine drew back to gaze into his eyes with a sly grin on her face. “My ex-boyfriend.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling, amused at her antics. “You’re going to start introducing me as that from now on, aren’t you?”

Éponine smirked at him. “Sometimes. No way of knowing when, so be prepared to correct me at any given moment.”

She leaned in to kiss him then, her lips capturing his, and he sighed against her lips as he readily kissed her back, reaching up with one hand to cup her cheek. She was intoxicating, stealing his breath away with a single kiss, and once they had broken apart, he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, blue eyes soft and tender as they gazed into her brown. She smiled up at him, reaching up to trace his jaw with her thumb before running her fingers through his golden curls, mussing them up slightly.

“I love you, ’Jolras,” she whispered. “So much.”

“I love you, too,” Enjolras replied, taking her left hand in his right and glancing at the rings on her finger, her engagement ring and her wedding band, before he glanced at his own left hand, gazing at his own wedding ring, and unimaginable happiness surged through him once again at the proof that they had actually gotten married, that the perfect woman he was sitting with in that limousine was his _wife_ and they were sitting right across from their singing daughter, the little girl distracted by the sights outside.

Éponine sighed and laid her head on Enjolras’ shoulder, hugging his arm and lacing their fingers together as they watched Victoire sing to herself, staring out the car window with a look of utmost delight on her face. “You think R will get drunk at the reception?” Éponine asked softly as Enjolras gave her hand a squeeze.

“Undoubtedly.” After some time, Enjolras added, “Not too drunk, I hope.”

“I’ll make sure the bartender stops giving him drinks once he’s had about four or five,” Éponine reassured her husband—fuck, it was so surreal to be thinking of him as her _husband_. “I wonder what his speech’s going to be like.”

“Mhmm.” Enjolras said nothing, merely humming in response as they sat there together in comfortable silence, their daughter singing softly across from them and bringing smiles to their faces as the limousine sped down the streets of Manhattan to Chelsea Piers. After a while, he murmured, “Are you excited?”

“For what? But yeah,” Éponine replied.

Enjolras chuckled at her odd response. “Our honeymoon.”

“Oh, definitely.” Éponine briefly lifted her head to press an affectionate kiss to his cheek. “We’re going to fucking _Paris_ , I can’t wait to explore the city of light with you.”

“Language, ’Ponine,” Enjolras chided softly, stealing a sideways glance at Victoire. She didn’t seem to have heard, still singing to herself and staring out the car window from her car seat. Éponine simply laughed and laid her head on his shoulder again, giving his hand a squeeze as he rubbed circles into her palm and stole glances out the window at the streets whizzing past. After a while, he murmured just loud enough for Éponine to hear, “I don’t think I’ve told you yet how beautiful you look, my love.”

Éponine let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Thanks, ’Jolras. You do too.” Smiling to herself, she murmured, “I’m just proud that I managed to make you cry while I was walking down that aisle.”

“You cried too,” Enjolras retorted, though Éponine could hear a definite smile in his voice.

“Can you blame me? This is one of the two best days of my life,” Éponine replied candidly. “Of course I cried. And it wasn’t like you didn’t, ya big baby.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and lightly elbowed her, murmuring, “I’m assuming the other best day of your life is the day that little peanut over there was born?” He glanced at Victoire, who was still singing to herself with a dreamy little dimpled smile on her face.

“Of course it was, what else would it be?” Éponine lifted her head to kiss his cheek once again, squeezing his hand. “God, this is all so surreal. We’re _married_. Holy shit.”

Éponine’s free hand toyed with her locket, her mind drifting away to thoughts of replacing the picture inside with a photograph of her, Enjolras, and Victoire together from earlier after the wedding ceremony, before the entire wedding party gathered for group pictures. Just the three of them—Éponine in her wedding dress, Enjolras dressed to the nines in his tuxedo, and Victoire in Enjolras’ arms, wearing her pale pink flower girl dress, the little family beaming for the camera. She made a mental note to change the picture in her locket to one of the photographs of the three of them together from after the wedding ceremony later on, once they got all the pictures and the wedding video.

They spent the rest of the car ride to the Lighthouse in comfortable silence, which was only broken by Victoire’s soft singing, and their limousine was the last to arrive at the venue, stepping out to see that the others had already gathered outside the Lighthouse, waiting for the bride and groom and their daughter to make an appearance so they could all enter. Angela and Antoine were standing among the Amis, eyes lighting up when they saw Enjolras, Éponine, and Victoire step out of the last limousine, Angela hurrying over to embrace her son.

Enjolras felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him when his mother threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight as she whispered into his ear, “I’m so proud of you, sweet pea.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at Angela’s words and readily hugged her back before she let go of him moments later, smiling at him through teary eyes. Antoine then hugged Enjolras as Angela went over to Éponine, who was talking to Victoire and holding the little girl’s hand before she looked up when Angela tapped on her shoulder.

“Hey,” she said in greeting, smiling at the sight of her mother-in-law and being caught off-guard when Angela embraced her without warning, tensing up for a few moments before she relaxed and hugged her back, Victoire looking up at them both curiously. Once Angela had pulled away, Éponine noticed the tear tracks marking the older woman’s cheeks as Angela looked her new daughter-in-law up and down, a watery smile on her face.

“Thank you so much, Éponine,” Angela whispered. “For making my Gabriel so happy.”

Éponine smiled, feeling tears pricking at her eyes once again before she blinked them back. “Anytime,” she replied softly, feeling Victoire tugging at the skirt of her dress and turning her attention back to her daughter. “What is it, Vicky?”

Victoire merely said something barely legible as Enjolras made his way back to Éponine and Victoire after exchanging a few words with his father. “Should we start going inside?” he murmured in a low voice to his wife, taking her hand.

“Don’t the others go inside first?” Éponine pointed out. “We’re supposed to enter last, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are.” Enjolras turned to Victoire and bent down briefly to pick her up, lightly tickling her sides and making her giggle before he told her, “You’re going to be with Nana and Papa before Mommy and I go in, okay, Peanut?”

Victoire simply grabbed Enjolras’ face with her little hands and pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to her father’s nose, evoking laughter from Éponine as Enjolras screwed his face up at the feeling of Victoire’s plump little lips kissing the tip of his nose. “I guess that’s a yes, then,” he told her, bouncing the little girl up and down as she laughed before he passed her off to Angela, taking Éponine’s hand and heading off to talk to the others.

“Should we start going inside?” Éponine yelled over all their chatter, effectively shutting them all up as they turned to stare at the newly married couple. Cosette nodded, holding little Adrien in her arms, and so the wedding party entered the Lighthouse in pairs or in threes, Marius and Cosette with their twins and Azelma and Courfeyrac each holding either of Louis’ hands as the little boy toddled along while they went into the building, soon followed by Angela, Antoine, and Victoire before the rest could go in. Soon, Combeferre was the only one besides Éponine and Enjolras themselves left standing outside and he turned to face the couple, a smile on his face.

“Congratulations, you guys,” he told them, embracing Enjolras and then Éponine before he disappeared into the building, leaving the two of them alone outside in the late afternoon sunlight. Éponine raised her eyebrows at her husband (her _husband_ , holy shit) as she took his hand, their eyes trailing up to the banner reading “congratulations to the happy couple!” hung over the entrance as well as the numerous gold and silver balloons strung around the entrance. Éponine felt Enjolras give her hand a squeeze and turned her head to meet his eyes, tilting her head slightly.

“Shall we go in?” Enjolras questioned, blue eyes expectant. Éponine nodded.

“Come on, all these people came here for us.” Éponine hitched her skirt up with one hand and let go of Enjolras’ hand to link her arm with his as they walked into the venue, massive, deliriously happy grins on their faces as Sara Bareilles’ “I Choose You” played during their entrance, their guests applauding for them and Grantaire whistling in the background as they entered, arm in arm, smiling at their guests before making their way over to their table, where Victoire was seated. All of the Amis were sitting in tables surrounding theirs, Enjolras’ parents seated across the room from them; Angela gave the two of them a wave as Antoine smiled at them both before they were all startled by the sound of Grantaire screeching.

Turning around, Éponine saw Grantaire spring out of his seat and dash off to the bar, which had just been opened, and she rolled her eyes—honestly, did she expect anything else? Toby the Yorkie was left in a confused Jehan’s arms as Grantaire returned shortly with a glass of red wine and a wide, self-satisfied grin on his face, plopping back down beside Jehan just as Éponine stood up, silencing the guests and prompting Enjolras to stand up as well, holding Victoire in his arms.

“If you all don’t mind, it’s time to get this reception started!” Éponine called out, tugging her lace sleeves down to her wrists after they had bunched up just a bit. “Can everyone please settle down?”

Everyone’s chatter quickly died down as Éponine looked up to gaze at Enjolras with a soft, dimpled smile on her face before her gaze travelled to Victoire. “Before we start the toasting, I’d just like to thank everyone for being here with us to celebrate and Angela and Antoine, my in-laws, for paying for all this—we wouldn’t be having this amazing day if it weren’t for their generosity, and we’d especially like to thank our darling daughter Vicky here for being the reason we’re here today.”

Enjolras nodded in agreement, pressing a kiss to Victoire’s forehead as she giggled at the feeling. “We wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for this little peanut,” he explained to everyone, bouncing Victoire up and down in his arms as she gave an adorable little toothy smile identical to Enjolras’, dimples in her cheeks. “She’s the reason we’re standing here now, so thank you, Victoire, for bringing ’Ponine and I together.”

“We literally would not be here if it weren’t for you,” Éponine added, beaming at their daughter. “So thanks, Peanut. We love you.”

Éponine and Enjolras kissed either of Victoire’s cheeks at the same time as she laughed out loud while the guests and the wedding party whooped and cheered, one of the photographers snapping a picture to commemorate the moment. Once everyone had settled down again, quieting down enough for Enjolras to start speaking, he began with a smile on his face, “I’d like to begin the toasts now, if that’s okay. I have a little more than a few words for my beautiful new wife here.”

Éponine gazed up at him, still standing up, and smiled adoringly as the Amis hollered and cheered for them, anticipating what Enjolras had to say. Victoire giggled once more and kissed her father’s cheek, much to Enjolras’ surprise, and he laughed, turning to smile at Victoire before his gaze fell to Éponine once more, the fondness in his blue eyes clear as day. Victoire clung to Enjolras as he started speaking once again.

“Éponine,” he started, the tender smile on his face loving and affectionate, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, if you don’t count our little peanut.” He bounced Victoire in his arms once again as Éponine laughed before he put Victoire down in her seat after she started trying to pull herself out of his arms and continued, “I’ll admit, when we first moved in together about four years ago, I had my reservations about being roommates with the girl I was secretly in love with, but I went ahead and took the risk anyway. Even if I didn’t think so at the time, it turned out to be the best decision I had ever made. I didn’t think things could change so drastically in four years, but it did—at some point along the way, I realised I wanted to spend every single day waking up to you and your eyes and your beautiful smile, and every day I spent without that feels like the worst day of my life. When you were in your coma after giving birth to Victoire, I was a mess, and I never want to feel that way again.”

Éponine felt tears pooling in her eyes and blinked them away, biting her lip as she smiled at him, as Enjolras smiled affectionately at her in return and went on, “When you told me you were pregnant with Victoire, I realised I would never be able to love anyone the way I love you. Even though that was completely unexpected and unplanned, it turned out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to us, and because of that, now you’re my wife. These past three years have been hard, but they’ve been so worth it and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You’re the love of my life, ’Ponine; my best friend. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been and you bring out the best in me. I love your smile so much, my love; every time you smile, I swear the world gets a little brighter because of it. I’m the luckiest person alive to have you as my wife. Home is wherever you are, and happiness is whenever I’m with you. I love you with all of my heart, Éponine, to the end of the universe and back.”

Everyone, mostly the Amis, cheered wildly when Enjolras pulled Éponine into a kiss at the end of his speech, unable to keep himself from smiling against her lips as she readily kissed him back, laughing into the kiss. When they broke apart, Éponine quietly told him to keep on standing so she could begin her own speech.

“All right, so I guess I’ll have to say something about my dear husband now,” she started, grinning around at the guests as Enjolras rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement, “and since I’m not as eloquent as you are when it comes to these kinds of things, I’m going to start by listing everything I love about you. ’Jolras, I love your smile and your eyes and your butt and everything about you, honestly. I love how passionate you are and how you never give up, not on me, not on anything. I love how you always, always have my back, how you’re always there by my side, as my best friend, Vicky’s dad, a kickass lawyer, and now as my darling husband, and I love how I’m the best person I can be when I’m with you. We aren’t perfect people, but you’re perfect for me, because that’s what soulmates are—imperfect people who are always perfect for each other.” She paused to savour how Enjolras smiled, blue eyes rather glassy, and she took his hand and gave it a squeeze as she added, “Did I mention that I love your butt?”

Éponine grinned and laughed when Enjolras rolled his eyes once again, a faint blush on his cheeks and his lips curved into a small smile, as the others hollered and whistled at Éponine’s words, quieting down before she went on, “You’re the greatest guy I’ve ever met, and I’m so glad that R and I gravitated towards you and the rest of our friend group back when we were eighteen and completely clueless about what was going to happen once we did.” Éponine looked around at the Amis and grinned at them all as they smiled back, Cosette giving Éponine a thumbs up and little Louis waving at her happily from his spot in Courfeyrac’s lap.

Turning back to Enjolras, Éponine continued, “I never expected to get knocked up with your kid, but I did, and even if it didn’t feel like it at the time, keeping our daughter turned out to be the best decision I’ve ever made and I wouldn’t change that for the world. These past three years have been completely unexpected, but they’ve been absolutely amazing and I’m so glad I got to share it all with you, and I can’t wait to share the rest of my life with you. It’s been a wild roller coaster ride, but there’s nobody I’d rather share that roller coaster ride with, and I can’t wait to see where our adventure together takes us next. Falling in love with you was beyond my control, but I’m so glad I did. I’ll never, ever take back my decision to marry you, ’Jolras. I love waking up to your brilliant blue eyes every single day and I want to keep waking up to them for the rest of my life.” Éponine took Enjolras’ hand and laced her fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze as she smiled up at him, fondness and affection in her sparkling brown eyes as they found his blue. “You’re my best friend and you’ve restored my faith in love, and I feel so incredibly lucky to be in love with my best friend. I choose you, and no matter what, I’ll always choose you. In every single universe, in every single lifetime, I’ll choose you. Out of every other person I could have chosen on this earth—man, woman, or otherwise—I’ll always choose you. I love you, Gabriel Enjolras, forever and always.”

After another round of applause during which Éponine threw her arms around Enjolras and pulled him into a tight hug, the couple sat down once again with their daughter as Combeferre got to his feet to make his own speech while the others turned their attention to him, watching him intently as he cleared his throat. He shot Enjolras and Éponine a smile before he began to speak.

“Hello, everyone!” Combeferre gave the guests a little wave in greeting, an endearing smile on his face as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Julien Combeferre, the best man. Also Victoire’s godfather, but that’s irrelevant right now.” He paused as the guests tittered, Victoire waving at him happily as he waved back, biting his lip to keep his smile from growing too wide at his absolutely adorable goddaughter. “I’ve known Éponine since we were eighteen in our freshman year of college, but I’ve known Enjolras for much longer than that—we’ve been friends since we were eight and we’ve been through a lot together, and I’m so honoured that he asked me to be his best man.”

Enjolras smiled at Combeferre as his hand slipped into Éponine’s under the table, their hands clasped tight as they listened to Combeferre go on, “Enjolras is honestly the greatest friend I’ve ever had—the best I’ve got. And Éponine?” Combeferre turned his gaze to Éponine, a smile on his face as he told her, “I can’t think of anyone as perfect for Enjolras as you are. You and Enjolras are two of my best friends, some of the best I could ever ask for, but more importantly, you two are the best _together_. I remember being so glad when you two finally got together; I didn’t think I could put up with even more of Enjolras hopelessly pining for you without you realising it after three years of that.” He paused as the guests burst out laughing, Éponine biting her lip to suppress a grin and Enjolras burying his face in his hands as a fierce blush coloured his cheeks at Combeferre’s words.

After a few moments, Combeferre went on, “Even if I got irritated sometimes whenever he kept bringing you up at every possible moment, I knew from the way he talked about you that this was special to him, and now here you both are.” Combeferre raised his glass of champagne to the couple in a toast, prompting the others to do so as well, as he told them sincerely, “Enjolras, Éponine, you deserve all the love and happiness in the world, and words can’t describe how happy I am for you. I love you both and I wish you a lifetime of love and happiness. To the bride and groom!”

Everyone cheered and raised their glasses to the couple, Victoire raising her little plastic cup full of orange juice after seeing Grantaire doing it with his glass of wine and evoking laughter from Éponine at the sight of the little girl beaming as she raised her plastic cup in complete earnest, everyone soon settling down as Azelma stood up to make her own speech, effectively silencing everyone.

“Hi, everybody,” Azelma began, smiling at the guests and doing an odd, awkward little sort of curtsey. “I’m Azelma, Éponine’s little sister and her maid of honour. I guess now’s my time to make my speech?” Glancing at Éponine, Azelma went on, “Thank you, everyone, for being here with us this afternoon to celebrate Éponine and Enjolras’ special day. A couple of months ago while I was drafting out my speech, I Googled ‘heartfelt maid of honour speeches’ but none of them really piqued my interest, so I hope the speech I came up with on my own will be enough to rival Combeferre’s.” Turning to Combeferre and zeroing in on him, hazel eyes narrowing, Azelma said, “Thanks a lot for raising everyone’s expectations, ’Ferre.”

Combeferre looked sheepish and slightly apologetic as Azelma turned back to look at Éponine, a little smile on her face as she looked at her sister. “For as long as I can remember, literally, Éponine’s always been there for me. Sure, we fought a lot growing up, but at the end of the day, she’s my sister and one of my very best friends. She’s so fierce and loving, and she’s always been so protective of Gavroche and me while we were growing up. We’ve been through so much together—I’ve had the opportunity to watch her grow up and evolve into this beautiful woman we see here today, and I’ve always admired her for being so determined and driven. She turned to me for comfort when she got pregnant and I did my best to provide her with just that, and she didn’t fail to provide me with comfort and advice of her own when I got pregnant myself, and for that, I’m grateful. Éponine,” Azelma beamed at her sister, hazel eyes shining, “I love you. I’m so glad I get to call you my sister, and I’m so happy for you. You’re amazing, in every single way—as a sister, a friend, an aunt, a mother, and now as a wife.”

Éponine bit her lip once again as tears stung at her eyes at Azelma’s words, a teary-eyed little smile bringing out the dimples in her cheeks as she watched her sister intently, waiting to hear what she would say next. Enjolras gave Éponine’s hand a squeeze as they both kept their eyes trained on Azelma.

Her gaze drifting to Enjolras, Azelma went on, “Enjolras, thank you for making my sister so incredibly, unbelievably happy every day. You’re one seriously lucky guy. I’m really glad that Éponine has you and I know you’ll be a fantastic husband to her—loving, supportive, and loyal. Honestly, you two have basically been married already long before today; today was just a matter of making things official.” Pausing to take a deep breath, Azelma continued, “I know love isn’t perfect. God, do I know. Don’t worry, things in my love life are going great right now,” she reassured the guests when some started looking concerned, looking down to smile at Courfeyrac, who grinned back up at her. “But I digress. Love isn’t a fairytale or a storybook—it takes time and effort. It’s about overcoming obstacles, it’s about facing challenges, it’s about holding on and never letting go, and if anyone is going to make it through all the trials and tribulations of navigating life and love together, it’s my dear sister and her amazing husband.” Raising her glass to them, Azelma said, “Congratulations, guys. Here’s to new love, new life, and everything in between! Cheers to the happy couple!”

“Hear, hear!” Courfeyrac called out as he raised his glass as well, the other guests following suit and Louis in his lap playing with the tablecloth. Once Azelma had plopped back down, Grantaire shot to his feet after handing Toby to Jehan once more, a wide grin on his face as he turned to look at Éponine.

“This is the last speech before the buffet opens, I promise,” Grantaire announced upon noticing some of the younger guests looking antsy. “Also, Éponine, I can assure you that I am _not_ drunk. Yet.”

Éponine snorted and gestured for him to go on, and so he did. “Hi, everyone, I’m Raoul Grantaire,” he greeted the guests, waving at Rachelle, who was sitting a few tables away. “I’m one of Enjy’s groomsmen, but Éponine was the one to ask me to make a speech at the reception, and who am I to say no to my oldest friend?” He paused for a bit before he cleared his throat, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before opening his eyes again, his gaze falling to Éponine as a little smile appeared on his face.

“I’ve known Éponine since we were fourteen,” Grantaire stated. “Meaning we witnessed each other going through our embarrassing emo phase before we eventually grew out of it at sixteen.” After pausing to savour the guests’ laughter, cackling at how Éponine feigned an icy glare at him for his words, he took out a small stack of cue cards and continued, “Éponine told me to avoid some topics for this speech, so…” After looking through the cue cards, Grantaire made a big show of dramatically shaking his head and dropping them to the floor until only one was left. Éponine stifled another snort as Grantaire scanned over the writing on the cue card, a grin on his face. “Okay, Éponine is the best friend I’ve ever had the fortune to have and she’s done so many great things…” He paused and frowned just then, squinting at the cue card. “Hey, Ep? I can’t read your handwriting.”

Éponine rolled her eyes and laughed along with the rest as Grantaire tucked the cue card away in his tuxedo before he grew serious, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention once again. “In all seriousness, everything I said was true. Éponine is honestly the best friend I’ve got and I’m so glad to be part of the wedding party and that I get to be here today.”

Blinking back the sudden tears filling his eyes, Grantaire went on, finding himself beginning to get choked up, “She’s always been there for me and I’m so grateful to have her as one of my closest friends. I was hoping to be the best-looking person in the room today, but obviously I failed miserably.” He paused for a breath, trying to swallow the lump forming in his throat as he told the bride affectionately, “Éponine, you look beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I’m so happy for you and Enjolras; I’ve always been rooting for you two deep down, ever since we were in college, and now we’re here! We’ve all come a long way and I’m ridiculously happy about the fact that two of my favourite people are now married. You two are perfect for each other and I love you both and Vicky to the moon and back. May you always find joy in the little things, and if you two ever have any more kids in the future, maybe consider making me godfather?” he added, to draw attention away from the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Éponine cackled at the mere idea of it and yelled out in response, “Hell no!”

Grantaire sniggered as the guests burst out laughing, attempting to wipe away his tears and remarking, “Well, it was worth a shot. I’ll stick to just being favourite uncle, then. Seriously, though, you and Enjolras are the best friends I could ever possibly ask for and I’m so grateful to have you both in my life. Thanks for putting up with me and being there to act as my pseudo-parents whenever I’m too buzzed to walk in a straight line.”

He smiled at them both, a true, genuine smile, not that shit-eating grin they were all so used to, and it caught the couple off-guard somewhat as Grantaire took a deep breath and went on, “Just know that I’ll always be around to take care of Vicky whenever you two aren’t able to. I’m glad to be able to call myself your friend. Here’s to a lifetime of laughter and love for my mom and dad! To Ep and Enj!”

“To Éponine and Enjolras!” the wedding party echoed, raising their glasses to the couple and Victoire doing the same with her now near-empty plastic cup, sending Éponine into another giggle fit at the sight as Enjolras smiled, putting his arm around his wife and pulling her closer to him as people began to get up to head to the buffet, ready to eat.

Ten minutes later, Éponine was devouring the spaghetti piled high on her plate, careful not to spill any sauce on her dress, as Enjolras fed Victoire some roast potatoes, the little girl happily eating it all up. Once Victoire had finished eating and gone off to sit with Grantaire, Jehan, and Toby nearby, Enjolras began to eat his smoked salmon just as Éponine finished her spaghetti, getting up to head over to the buffet and returning shortly after with steak cut up into small cubes and a heap of mashed potatoes drizzled in gravy, the bride wasting no time in tucking in after placing a napkin over her lap so not to spill any gravy on her dress as Enjolras watched her incredulously.

“You’re hungry,” he commented as Éponine looked up at the sound of his voice.

“Fucking starving,” she replied through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. After chewing a little more and swallowing, she told him, “Don’t worry, I won’t stuff myself too much.”

“Go ahead if that’s what you want, nothing’s stopping you,” Enjolras told her.

Éponine scrunched up her face at her husband. “I’d rather not throw up all over you while we’re dancing together, thanks.”

Enjolras chuckled, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I love you.”

Éponine grinned at him. “I love you too, pretty boy.”

Just then Victoire ran over to them and tugged at Éponine’s sleeve. “Mommy!”

Turning her head to look at Victoire, Éponine questioned, “What is it, Peanut?”

Victoire pointed at the mashed potatoes on Éponine’s plate. “Po-ta-to?”

“Do you want some mashed potatoes?” When Victoire nodded yes, Éponine laughed and took the napkin off her dress before lifting Victoire into her lap, spooning some mashed potatoes into the little girl’s mouth as Enjolras watched them fondly.

Once Victoire had satisfied herself with approximately three spoonfuls of mashed potato, she reached out for Enjolras. “Daddy!” she cried out happily, laughing when Enjolras lifted her out of Éponine’s lap and into his own, bouncing her up and down.

“What are you wearing, Vicky?” Éponine asked brightly, leaning in.

Victoire looked down and smoothed her skirt before looking back up to beam at Éponine. “A dress!”

“You look beautiful, Miss Victoire,” Enjolras told her, bouncing her up and down in his lap. “And you did an excellent job as our flower girl. Mommy and Daddy are so proud of you.”

Victoire twisted in place to look up at Enjolras and smile at him. “Thank you,” she replied, enunciating the words and giggling when Enjolras kissed her forehead.

“You’re very welcome, Peanut,” Éponine replied, stifling a giggle at the way she said it.

“Thank you for saying that,” Victoire reiterated, her words slow and hesitant. Éponine laughed and leaned in to kiss Victoire’s little forehead before she looked back up to press a quick, affectionate kiss to Enjolras’ lips, pulling back mere seconds later to see how he smiled.

“The dance floor is going to be opening soon,” he reminded her quietly.

Éponine smiled. “I know.”

“Ready to dance?” Enjolras quirked an eyebrow as his blue eyes gazed straight into her brown.

Éponine leaned in to kiss him again, short and sweet, before pulling back. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You really do look beautiful,” Enjolras told her, his voice soft, tender, as he gazed into her eyes and brushed a stray hair out of her face while Victoire occupied herself with fiddling with Enjolras’ boutonnière, entranced.

Éponine smiled and looked down into her lap, dimples carved into her rosy cheeks. “You don’t look half-bad yourself.”

Victoire slid out of Enjolras’ lap and looked up at both her parents with a big smile, making them melt. “I go now,” she announced cheerfully before going off to see Azelma, Courfeyrac, and Louis as Éponine and Enjolras exchanged a look before she laid her head on his shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his neck as he put an arm around her.

“She’s perfect,” Éponine murmured, watching as Victoire shook a little rattle in Louis’ face, making the little auburn-haired boy laugh.

“I know, my love.” Enjolras looked up when the DJ took the stage, a microphone in hand, and Enjolras’ grip on Éponine’s hand grew tighter as they both looked up in anticipation.

“Hey, everybody!” the DJ called out, prompting everyone to look up at her. She smiled at them all, waving. “If everyone is finished with their dessert, could I call the bride and groom to the dance floor for their first dance as a married couple?”

“Looks like it’s our cue,” Éponine whispered into Enjolras’ ear as he stood up, holding his hand out for Éponine to take and helping her to her feet as she turned scarlet under the intensity of everyone’s stares. Enjolras held his arm out to her for her to link her arm through, a little smile on his face.

“Shall we?”

He guided her out to the dance floor as everyone watched intently, Victoire most of all, while the DJ turned on the song they had chosen for their first dance, and Enjolras swept Éponine into his arms as their song began to play, one hand in hers and the other around her waist as she placed her other hand on his shoulder, the two of them beginning to waltz around the dance floor in time to the music. Éponine couldn’t help but smile as she gazed into Enjolras’ blue eyes, nothing but love and affection shining through as they danced to the gentle music, Enjolras occasionally singing the words to her, his voice soft and just loud enough for her to hear.

_“I won’t give up on us even if the skies get rough_

_I’m giving you all my love_

_I’m still looking up…”_

“How do you feel?” Enjolras murmured about a quarter into the song as he twirled her around before bringing her back into his close embrace, her lips stretching into a little smile, dimples carving themselves into her cheeks. Éponine bowed her head momentarily before looking back up to gaze into his eyes, smiling at the look on his face as he gazed at her, like she was his moon and stars and everything in between.

“Content,” Éponine replied truthfully. “Happy. Satisfied.” After a pause, she murmured to him, “I love you. So much.”

“I love you so much, too,” Enjolras responded softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He ignored how everyone’s eyes were on them in favour of gazing at his wife, hardly able to believe that they had made it to this point. Words couldn’t possibly describe just how much he loved her as she smiled at him throughout their first dance together as a married couple, a feeling of absolute love and happiness overtaking him and warmth settling throughout his body at the sight of his beautiful wife, his best friend, the love of his life, his _everything_.

“Can you believe we made it?” The sound of Éponine’s voice brought Enjolras out of his thoughts. She tilted her head slightly as she gazed into his eyes, the tiniest smile gracing her lips. “God, I’m one lucky bitch.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Enjolras contradicted good-naturedly, chuckling when Éponine laughed.

“I can’t believe I have a husband,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Pinch me?”

Enjolras did as he was told, Éponine biting her lip to stifle a cry of pain. “Jesus fuck, not _that_ hard, asshole.” The look of mild anger on her face was quick to turn soft again as she quietly laughed it off. “On the bright side, that means we really are married. Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow,” Enjolras echoed, smiling at her and leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. “You’re my wife.”

“Hell yeah I am,” Éponine quipped, eliciting a little laugh from Enjolras and making her smile. “God, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Enjolras returned, pressing his lips to hers in a tender, affectionate kiss before he drew back mere seconds later.

They were halfway through the song, just dancing alone together on the dance floor, all eyes fixed on them, when Victoire came running out to join them, immediately clinging to Éponine once she had reached her parents. Éponine couldn’t help but laugh when Victoire tugged at her skirt, looking up at her through wide brown eyes and just clinging to her mother. “Mommy, dance!”

Éponine laughed once again, taking Victoire’s little hands in hers. “Okay, Peanut, let’s dance.”

She guided Victoire in a waltz, the toddler giggling madly throughout, and Enjolras stood back to watch them both, fondness written all over his face as Éponine and Victoire rather clumsily waltzed around the dance floor together, the both of them in fits of giggles, and he could vaguely hear how many of the guests were gushing and cooing at the sight as he watched Éponine and Victoire dancing together, Victoire practically clinging to Éponine. Enjolras felt like his heart could burst from the simple sight of it, feeling tears stinging at his eyes as he watched them with a soft smile on his face, blue eyes sparkling with fondness and affection. His _wife_ and their _daughter_.

After their song came to an end, they were soon joined on the dance floor by Enjolras’ parents and the wedding party; after Combeferre took her for a brief spin, Éponine came to a stop once more and felt Victoire tugging at her dress again, looking down and beaming at her daughter.

Victoire grinned up at her. “Do you want to dance again?”

Victoire nodded and Éponine took her daughter’s little hands in hers, taking her for a spin around the dance floor as they danced to “Lucky” before Victoire spun her way over to Enjolras, laughing madly when he lifted her into the air and twirled her around before placing her down on the ground again, a grin of utter happiness on his face. “Daddy!” Victoire called happily as they spun around the dance floor together, Éponine standing to the side and smiling at the sight.

Grantaire soon found his way over to Éponine with Toby in his arms, smiling at the sight of her. “How’d you like my speech?” he questioned, wiggling his eyebrows as Éponine turned her head to look up at him.

“I loved it,” Éponine replied, completely sincere for once as she reached up to ruffle Toby’s fur, the Yorkie barking happily. “Thank you.”

The two of them stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching Enjolras and Victoire dancing together, and Éponine felt herself smile at the sight. Her husband and their daughter. The loves of her life.

“Can’t believe you two losers are married now,” Grantaire commented; Éponine could hear how he was smiling from his tone of voice alone. She glanced up at him once again.

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either,” she murmured, biting her lip and smiling. “It’s so surreal.”

“You two ever going to have any more kids?” Grantaire questioned, curious.

Éponine shrugged. “One day,” she replied. “We’re thinking when Victoire’s three or four, then we could try for another kid.”

“Ah.” After a pause, Grantaire suggested, “If you have another girl, why don’t you name her Stacy?”

Éponine looked up to give him an incredulous look. “Stacy is the most whitebread-ass name ever,” she deadpanned. Narrowing her eyes, she asked suspiciously, “You just want an excuse to be able to sing ‘Stacy’s Mom’, don’t you?”

Grantaire smirked. “Guilty as charged.”

Éponine elbowed him sharply in the ribs, but she was grinning, barely able to contain her laughter. “Ass.”

Other guests soon began to fill up the dance floor and Grantaire handed Toby off to Rachelle, turning to Éponine. “Want to dance?” he offered, quirking an eyebrow.

Éponine laughed and rolled her eyes, taking Grantaire’s hand. “You sure you aren’t going to pass out? You’re _terrible_ at dancing.”

“I think I can manage jumping up and down to this one song, _Mrs. Enjolras_ ,” Grantaire riposted cheekily as Éponine’s cheeks turned scarlet, and she grinned.

“Makes me sound like an old lady,” she muttered, bowing her head to hide the massive grin on her face at being addressed as Mrs. Enjolras.

“You _are_ an old lady,” Grantaire informed her matter-of-factly. “You’re all married now and everything.”

Éponine let out a breathy laugh and grabbed Grantaire’s hand, dragging him onto the dance floor. “Come on, fuckface, let’s dance!”

The next hour or so was a blur—Éponine found herself dancing with every single one of the Amis and even with Enjolras’ father at one point, whirling around the dance floor with Antoine and engaging in light-hearted conversation with her father-in-law, but in the end, she always found her way back to Enjolras and Victoire. Even amidst all the people on the dance floor, it felt as if it was just the three of them left in the world, dancing to Colbie Caillat and not having a care in the world, their laughter ringing out through the air as Enjolras hoisted Victoire up into his arms while Éponine bounced up and down, laughing as Enjolras pretended to waltz around with Victoire in his arms, his hand in hers, the happiest smile Éponine had ever seen on his face.

Éponine thought back to their marriage vows earlier and the speeches they had made at the start of the reception, smiling at the memory as Enjolras eventually put Victoire down again and the three of them danced around in circles right there in the middle of the dance floor. As cheesy as it sounded, Éponine really did think that home wasn’t a place, but a person—or maybe multiple people—and as she danced with her husband and their daughter right there before being swept away by Grantaire, Victoire’s laughter bringing a smile to Enjolras’ face and making an absolutely overwhelming feeling of love and happiness overtake Éponine, she knew that despite how clichéd and saccharine it may be, home really was where the heart is.

Éponine soon found her way back into Enjolras’ arms, laughing when she was twirled back into him after bouncing around with Grantaire, who proceeded to steal Victoire away for a dance, and Éponine didn’t hesitate to reach up and place her arms around her husband’s neck, teasing in a whisper amid the music, “Mr. Éponine.”

Enjolras smiled, and it put the sun to shame. “Mrs. Enjolras.”

Éponine bit her lip to keep herself from grinning like a crazy idiot before she decided not to care for once, a wide dimpled grin spreading across her face as she leaned in to lay her head against his shoulder as the music changed to a much slower-paced song. _How convenient,_ she thought to herself in amusement as she and Enjolras swayed to and fro on the dance floor, never wanting to let each other go.

“If it’s not too much to ask, can you promise me one thing, ’Jolras?” Éponine found herself saying halfway through the song they were dancing to, softly humming along.

Enjolras nodded. “Anything, ’Ponine.”

She let out a breathy laugh and bowed her head for a moment before looking back up to gaze into his blue eyes. She could get lost in those oceans forever. “Stay?” she murmured, phrasing it as if it were a question.

Enjolras leaned in to kiss her forehead in confirmation, whispering in response, “Forever.”

Once the music had changed yet again, Éponine could feel someone tugging on the skirt of her dress and looked down to find Victoire standing there, clinging to her. “Hi, Vicky!” Éponine greeted brightly, bending down to hoist Victoire up into her arms and pressing a raspberry kiss to the toddler’s cheek, making Victoire erupt in a fit of giggles as Enjolras stood there with a little smile on his face, watching them intently.

“Hi, Mommy!” Victoire replied in between giggles, letting out a shriek of laughter when Éponine twirled around in place, her skirt flaring out momentarily before it settled into a ball-gown silhouette once again as Éponine put Victoire down on the dance floor and beckoned Enjolras over with a dimpled smile.

“Wanna dance, Peanut?” When Victoire nodded enthusiastically in agreement, Éponine laughed out loud and took the toddler’s hands in her own, twirling the little girl around as the two of them dissolved into hysterical giggle fits. Victoire eventually took notice of Enjolras standing there watching them and beamed up at him.

“Daddy, dance!” she called out happily, reaching out and making grabby hands at him, and who was Enjolras to say no?

The groom soon joined his bride and their daughter in a dance, limbs flailing about carelessly, and it must have looked absolutely fucking ridiculous to everyone else, but Éponine couldn’t care less, not when she was this unbelievably happy. Not when she was with her husband and their daughter, the two best things that had ever been hers. Her sun, moon, stars, and everything in between.

As she danced with Enjolras and Victoire as if they had no cares in the world, their laughter ringing out through the air, Éponine felt as if she was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> and that marks the end of the second instalment in the intertwined verse! let me know what you think!
> 
> i'll be writing a one-shot series after this—missing scenes, outtakes, teensy little sequel one-shots, and the like. feel free to send in prompts!! i'll warn you beforehand, i'm absolutely terrible about getting back to prompts (i have so many currently sitting in my inbox on tumblr, and i _promise_ i'll get to them eventually, but it'll take time), but i'll definitely write for any prompts deemed fit for this particular au!
> 
> hit me up on tumblr, i'm there as @bisexual-eponine, come creep into my inbox!! ~~(not in a creepy anon hate kind of way, though....... one time was just one time too many)~~ i'd absolutely be willing to yell about this au and share headcanons with you, i'll always answer any and all asks regarding this fic!
> 
> until next time!!


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